LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

%P- Gapirigl;} :|o. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERIOA. 



CUBA, 



AN INCIDENT OF THE INSURRECTION, 



AND OTHER VERSE, 



TO WHICH IS APPENDED 



AN P^ S S AY ON Nl U S I C , 



MORRIS GARTH. 




Here pause my gothic lyre a little time; 
The leisure hour is all that thou canst claim. 

—BeatUe. 



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BELFORD CLARKE CO. 
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Copyrighted, i8go, by 

Belforu Clarke Co. 



CONTENTS. 



CUBA: An Incident of the Insurrection . . 7 

MAY: A Pastoral ..... 45 

THE OLD SEXTON'S CHRISTMAS DREAM . 52 

CHATTERTON: A Monody ... 60 

SEA PICTURES . . . . . .65 

QUAND MEME ..... 71 

SONNETS. 

A Night in June . . . . '79 

Inri ...... 80 

Music . . . . . . .81 

To-morrow ..... 82 

Solitude . , . . . -83 

Meditation ..... 84 

Venice . . . . . . .85 

STANZAS. 

Love and Dignity .... 89 

The Gladiator . . . . .93 

His Reply (to "Her Letter") . . 95 

The Early Worm, of Unhappy Memory . . 100 

Night ...... 103 

Unknown Soldier : Arlington, Va. . . 106 
On the Sands . . . . .108 

To A Canary . . . . . .110 



IV. CONTENTS. 

STANZAS.— Continued. 

MONA . . . . .112 

A Thought . . . . .114 

Music and Memory . . .116 

The Dakota: a Fragment. . . .118 

Underley ...... 123 

Barcarolle . . . . .125 

Song : A Sky of purest Sapphire . . 127 

A Remembramce . . , . . 129 

I LOVE TO LOOK INTO THINE EyES . . I30 

Lines in an Album: I., II., III., IV., . 131 132 

To * * * * 133 

Love in Absence : Spanish Proverb, . . 134 

Song: There's Someone with the brightest 
Eyes ...... 135 

ESSAY. 

Music and Its Processes . . .139 



What is writ is writ: would it were worthier, 

— Byron. 



CUBA. 



CUBA. 



The Indies^ seas — resplendent, sapphire-bright: 

The coral lands where Nature ever smiles, 

Where summer reigns, throned on a thousand isles, 

Crowned as befits the queen of life and light. 

The tropic sun — a fire which knows no wane. 

Uplifting life in opulence sublime, 

In endless wealth; the eminent domain 

Of life spontaneous from creation's prime! 

Clad in rich tints or robed in fiery hues 

Its myriad forms in plant, in fruit, and flower; 

Munificence supreme; supremest power 

Revealed in never-wearying love profuse. 

The sum unspeakable, and soul and sense 

Gaze wonder-bound before Omnipotence! 

As neighboring trees all blossom-laden rest 
'Mid the rose-haze of summer's sultry day. 
So lie those isles upon the sun-fl^ushed breast 
Of southern seas where spicy breezes play. 

7 



8 CUBA. 

Balmful those winds with fragrant sweets imbued, 
Culled from unnumbered fruits and floral blooms, 
Profusely rich, which scatter their perfumes 
Upon the air — o'erfilled to lassitude. 

Unceasingly amid the island shades 
Pours the glad music of the plumaged throng, 
Most joyous heard 'mid the secluded glades 
Of the wild-wood, where they betimes prolong 
Into the silence of the night their song. 

Entrancing scenes of artless luxury! 
Where bounteous nature has profusely shed 
Her rarest gifts, nor deem on earth can be 
Scenes where her beauties are more richly spread. 

Yet, 'mid those scenes, in sullen grandeur rise 
Mountainous steeps, wild-cragged, their forms sear- 
browned, 
Which boldly reach majestic toward the skies. 
Their towering crests with dark-plumed pines en- 
crowned! 
Upon their heights the island mountaineer, — 
In view the waters of th' encircling sea, — 
Makes his abode; his joy their crags to dare; 
Nor deems he else an equal luxury. 
Though 'neath his feet unfading shades abound. 
And fruits delicious freight the hidden ground. 



CUBA. 



Such beauty theirs — those isles of Indies' sea; 
Such riches theirs as tempt cupidity! 



II. 



The morn across Antilles seas 

Broke softly with a cradling breeze, 

Which o'er the slumbering waters crept 

Till lost in island groves it slept, 

Or wandered merrily along 

Amid its shades, which, at its song 

Waking, their * leafy banners' hung 

Out as it passed, while sweetly sung 

The plumaged choir in bright array. 

Their anthem to returning day. 

To these and opening woodland flowers, 

To lakelets bright, in verdant bowers 

Embosomed, the glad zephyrs spoke 

Their greetings, and all nature woke 

To joy; the sylvan wavelets kissing 

From sleep; with smiles them dimpling o'er. 

Or from their cradled rest enticing, 

To leave them sighing on the shore! 



III. 



The sun, now risen, through the verdured trees, 
Tuned by the breeze to rustic symphonies, 
Shed o'er a woodland lake, — whose waters lie 



lO CUBA. 

Among the hills that overlook the sea, 

Carribean named, where round the southern coast 

Of Cuba's isle it circles, eastward lost, — 

Its softest rays, yet brightest till its breast 

Sparkled with brilliants, like some beauty dressed 

In jeweled splendor, as it rose and fell 

In warm pulsation, softly audible. 

Upon its wooded slopes, here long alone. 

Save for his child, — scarce to his household known, 

In solitude had dwelt and slept — now dead — 

The Count Zambrana. Many years had fled 

Since first he sought the shades which now waved o'er 

His marble crypt upon the farther shore. 

Whence he had come none knew, none e'er had known; 

Why thus he lived, avoiding e'en his own. 

And none remembered since the earliest day 

He sought those hills one from them spent away, 

Though at each eve this man of mystery 

Had loved to wander by the neighboring sea; 

And only there was he e'er known to show 

Aught of emotion; then from some deep woe 

It seemed to rise, which in his heart lay sealed, 

Some wearing secret, jealously concealed. 

Stern was his glance, withal yet kind his eye 

Where pride enthroned maintained a mastery 

O'er those emotions which his heart down-weighed, 

Nor rose unguarded, save when sleep betrayed. 

In life, his thought ne'er wearying did employ 



CUBA. II 

Itself in studying but his daughter's joy; 

And wealth possessed, left her naught to desire, 

Save to reclaim from that dark shade her sire, — 

Was it remorse or sorrow which thus moved 

The heart her own so truly, fondly loved. 

But Death — that presence which man's heart subdues, 

Refusing oft that which alone it sues 

In life's last hour: a moment's strength to bear 

Up from its tomb the sins Pride buries there — 

Had sought Zambrana, and its swift decree 

Forever sealed his life's strange mystery. 

Now years had fled; to womanhood had grown 

The child, yet had she not been left alone, 

For a not less than mother's love was hers 

In one her guardian from her earliest years. 

IV. 

Upon the woodland lake, smooth gliding o'er 
Its waves, a gondola approached the shore, 
Beneath the oar of swarthy Islander 
Borne gently onward. Long his raven hair 
Fell from beneath a ribboned sombrero 
About his neck uncovered, and below. 
Across his half-bared breast of olive hue, 
Floated before the breeze. His eyes — but who 
Would paint a Criollo and shade his eyes 
Less dark than are his southern starlit skies! 
A lovely figure in the boat reclined: 



12 CUBA. 

Zambrana's daughter; her fair form, confined 

In whitest folds of softest texture, lay 

The paragon of grace and symmetry, 

Beneath a silk o'ershading, on a spread 

Of Persian tapestry. Rested her head 

On her warm hand, round which her wealth of hair, 

In dark profusion fell; and naively there 

A crimson blossom clung, and seemed to seek 

To shade the damask softness of her cheek. 

Her eyes were dark — 'twould be a mockery 

To try to paint them by a simile. 

As they beneath their silken fringe, half closed, 

In lustrous languor, dreamingly reposed. 

A terraced stair, with marble balustrade. 
Rose from the lake, and thence an avenue, 
'Neath palms o'er-arching, stretched up the hill-side 
To where, crowning its summit, the chateau 
In simple beauty stood. Around the shade 
Of tamarind, ceiba and the mango swayed 
In wandering winds, laden with sweets distilled 
From neighboring fruity groves, while clustering there 
Bloomed floral hues unnumbered, and the air. 
Amid the foliage musical, was filled 
With songs of birds. 

Entrancing scenes stretched round on every hand, 
Far as the sight the vista could command 



CUBA. 13 

In azure framed — the vast circumference 

With beauty stored; a glow of life intense: 

Here orange groves displayed their wondrous yield 

In golden clusters o'er the verdured field; 

There softly white the coffee beauty spread 

Her flake-like blossoms fringed with gentlest shade 

Of stately palms, which 'mid the slumbrous air 

Reposeful stood — majestic everywhere. 

Beyond, empurpled, 'gainst the luminous sky 

A mountain range in sombre majesty 

Stretching far eastward with the neighboring sea — 

The sister tenants of immensity. 

Near the chateau, 'neath an embowering shade, — 
A net of verdure with bright blossoms spread, — 
Where over-arching vines, with blooms o'er-run, 
Tempered the brightness of a tropic sun. 
Reclined the figure of a youth, though grown 
To manhood's stature. Through the screen o'er- 

thrown. 
Of foliage intertwined, the sunlight crept, 
Lighting his brow, as motionless he slept, 
O'er which his hair, in indolent unrest. 
Moved in dark clusters, by the breeze caressed. 
A flush was warmly glowing on his cheek 
As soft as are the mellow tints that streak 
The summer sky, when, as night's curtains close, 
On twilight's breast, day sinks into repose. 



14 CUBA. 

Yet there was stamped upon his placid face 

Unyielding pride, still tempered with a grace 

Of true nobility, that influence 

Which moulds the face in gentler lineaments. 

Plain were his features, yet enthroned there. 

With stateliness, appeared that nameless air 

Of conscious force, — the reflex of a mind 

Which still attracts and which commands mankind; 

The superscription of that power that sways 

The world, the mind, — sovereign of sovereignties! 

With its great premier, governing reason, throned. 

Controlling worlds, yet by no power bound. 

Its consort thought; the eye its minister; 

The universe its realm; the arbiter 

In man of men, who, envious, then behold 

Themselves resistless by its power controlled. 

As in submission^ 'neath its master spell, 

They render homage, though their wills rebel! 



V. 



From midnight till the star of morn 
Paled 'neath the saffron veil of dawn, 
Young Pasco, o'er the star-lit wave. 
By many a cape and island cave, 
Full many a league along the shore 
Guided his boat with steady oar, 
From where, within a cliff-bound bay, 



CUBA. 15 

A band of Cuban patriots lay- 
Close 'neath a friendly mountain wall 
Which stretched around, impassable. 

There in the fastness of the mountain height, 
Dreading naught else save the betraying night, 
His patriot comrades waited for the day 
When once again their hands should rend away 
Another thong that bound their bleeding land. 
Wrenched from her heart-strings by a tyrant's hand. 



Thou stricken isle! how long shall Slaughter flood 

Thy vales of beauty with the patriots' blood; 

How long still, struggling, must thou bleed, nor find 

One hand of mercy thy red wounds to bind? 

Weakest yet braver than the strongest all. 

Must freedom's fairest child unheeded call, 

And to the accents of her anguished cry, 

Gain but the echo of their agony? 

Thou guardian Genius of the patriot brave! 

Hear thou thy sons — still thine the power to save — 

Who to thee turn, scourged in their native land 

For freedom's cause by an aggressor's hand. 

Hear thou thy sons who nobly there defy 

Thy bitterest foe, freedom's arch-enemy; 

That chief of despots, whose long history reads 

A record dark of persecution's deeds, 



l6 CUBA. 

Who now oppressing that unhappy clime 
Would there proscribe e'en liberty a crime — 
That gift divine, hereditary right, 
From mankind stolen in oppression's night! 
Withhold no longer thine avenging sword; 
Nay, they are free, if thou but speak'st the word, 
That word unsaid, lo, each returning day 
Beholds them pierced afresh by tyranny! 
Stay in their course the reeking blade 
And kindling brand, by fell destruction swayed, 
Which o'er that land, where all's so wondrous fair 
Spread blackened desolation and despair. 

A Nemesis arise, clothed in thy might, 

With justice armed, thy countenance alight 

With righteous vengeance, so shall tyranny 

Before thy face in terror shrink away. 

As to its lair the preying beast of night. 

When o'er the mountain beams the morning light! 

See, 'mid the verdure of his native glade, 
Attacked by panther, from its ambush strayed, 
The noble stag, just struggling to his feet. 
Defiantly fronts his pursuer's hate. 
Now on his foe impetuously he flies, 
A desperate courage flashing from his eyes; 
The beast recoils, then with a fierce rebound 
Springs at its victim; half borne to the ground 



CUBA. 17 

His antlers stout receive his savage foe: 
With cry half pain, half hate, back crouching low. 
Yet once again behold him full at bay, 
Dauntless — 

Till now his panting breaths betray 
His sinking frame, which scarce may long sustain. 
The brave, proud spirit which it bears within. 
See on the jaws of his fierce assailant 
The scarlet life, in savage cunning rent 
From his torn limbs, that know no soothing balm 
Save the soft currents of his life-blood warm; 
Yet not alone his flows; mark the red dye 
His antlers bear, drawn from his enemy ! 

Lo, Cuba thus confronts Hispania still, 
With courage not her fiercest shocks can kill, 
Though stricken bleeding — 

Thou America! 
Strong as thou art and pledged to liberty. 
Thus at thy gates shall stranger masters slave 
Thy sister — loveliest child that Nature gave! 
Thy freedom viewed, she in thy steps would tread, 
Yet stones thou giv'st her where she asks but bread. 
Nay, while her cries now smite thy sluggard ear. 
Cries thou know'st well, for once thine own they 
were, 



l8 CUBA. 

While in her flesh, all quivering, deeper gnaw 
Beneath thine eyes, the chains her enslavers draw, 
Wilt thou, O mother! — canst thou close thy heart? 
Must thus the prestige of thy name depart? 



Young Pasco, boldest of the brave. 

Feared not the wildness of the wave; 

To him the night wind o'er the sea 

Was but a voice of melody; 

Its tossing waves — his heart more free — 

Were but a thing of ecstasy 

In which his boundless thoughts but found 

Companions; their impatient sound 

Reflecting in their wild unrest; 

Love's fevered pulses in his breast; 

And so he welcomed with delight 

These restless spirits of the night. 

Naught did he fear, for to the heart 

That knows the strength love's throbs impart- 

A strength in dangers stronger proving 

That stand betwixt the loved and loving — 

There is no peril which can fright 

On surging wave or mountain height. 

While depths of fondest happiness 

Await the heart in love's embrace! 

Now, as the dying shades of night 



CUBA. 19 

Fled silently before the light 
Of coming day, his light caique 
Was moored within an island creek. 
Soon reached the scene he knew so well, 
Made sacred by the last farewell 
Which he had kissed from lips that thrilled 
His quickening pulse, though parting chilled 
His anxious heart — for love e'er dreads 
The cloud a lowering future spreads, 
Though o'er the star of hope may gleam 
With bright albeit uncertain beam; 
A brightness which its spirit fears 
Reflected in a woman's tears. 

Fatigued, now 'neath a shade reclined 
He sought a while of rest to find, 
Before the fast returning day 
Should bring the hour that should repay 
Love's willing toil. Soon kindly sleep 
His eyelids closed, as the calmed deep, 
Just 'neath the hill whereon he lay. 
Low whispering of tranquility, 
Soothed weariness to sweetest rest. 
While fancy, for love, fondly traced 
In dream-tints, scenes where only joy 
Admitted, bore love company! 



20 CUBA. 

VI. 

As in the loadstone dwells a vital force 
We may not trace to its mysterious source, 
Which seeks its consort, the responding steel, 
And to it clings, nor why does it reveal, 
Th' effect we mark; — the cause? There dies the light, 
And Wonder pauses on the verge of night, 
While all the cunning of philosophies 
Ends in the simple knowledge that // is! 

E'en thus in love a nameless power lies. 
Attracting still its own affinities, 
Beneath which force the heart responsive moves 
Love's willing footsteps toward the soul it loves: 
The will obeys, — and why it cannot tell. 
Yielding unconscious to that mystic spell, 
In spirit-vision which outwings the sight. 
Pursued by thought in its mysterious flight. 

Thus oft there dawns a seeming consciousness: 

Thought's dimmest taper glimmering faint and 
low, 
When near us throbs the heart our own would bless, 

Feeling ere yet its presence we may know: 
Still undivined — this intercourse of souls; 

Unknown, its workings to the mists of sense, 
And yet the will its magic force controls. 

Which yields, unconscious, to its influence. 



CUBA. 21 

Now, as she wandered 'neath the verdant shades 
Which round her island home luxuriant pressed, 

As from the lake she sought their quiet glades. 
Dreaming of one whose image filled her breast. 

Did Lolo feel this influence which invades 
The realm of thought, with pulses to invest 

Those chords magnetic which two hearts unite: — 

A bond too hallowed for the sensual sight. 

And thus impelled, unconsciously she sought 
The floral shade where Pasco sleeping lay. 

Wondering the while if life could offer aught 
And Pasco gone; and then in ecstasy 

Transfixed she stood, as quick that saddening 
thought, 
Darkening her eyes, faded in tears of joy: — 

And oh how bright beamed her all-lustrous eyes 

'Neath that one cloud, flashing love's sympathies. 

"My Pasco! " — and her voice sank sweetly lower 
From the first pulse of love's temerity, 

Like the lone nightingale's, in twilight's hour. 
As, when disturbed, its warblings die away; 

And flushed her cheek as, like an arching flower. 
O'er him she leaned in love's expectancy. 

Pressing her heart which throbbed all envious, 

That sleep should claim a moment of its bliss. 



22 CUBA. 

O Love, thou sweet enigma of the soul! 

Fearless yet fearful; all-seeing yet how blind; 
Omniscient yet thou spurn'st the mild control 

Of thy co-dweller Reason. Thus combined, 
Opposing forces blend a marvellous whole 

In thy mysterious framework, that designed 
By goodness infinite that from its height 
The soul might glimpse th' elysian fields of light. 

E'en as to thought, to sight dost thou impart 
By thy mysterious force higher virtue 

Supernal, giving all things to the heart, 
By vision there revealed, an aspect new; 

Clothed in new beauty all; beauty no art 
Hath cunning to resolve, while that we knew 

Before as happiness, to thee doth seem 

But like the baseless fancies of a dream! 

Employs which once no joy could e'er impart. 
Or longings waked they could not satisfy, 

'Neath thy sweet force awake within the heart 
Throbbings of all-sufficing ecstasy. 

Heaven's richest dower to man; of life the part 
Most sacred; flame of immortality. 

Which here below sheds its celestial light. 

Without which life were lifeless, day were night. 

No longer able to resist, Lolo, 

Beside him seated 'mid the flowers, now 



CUBA. 23 

A gently lingering kiss upon his brow 

In maiden fervor pressed; then back she drew, 

As fearing love too bold, while a warm glow 
Suffused her cheek; then o'er his face anew 

Her own she leaned, as Pasco, waking, seemed 

As if he doubted if he lived or dreamed. 

" Is it a dream? No, no! No dream could trace 
Such wondrous beauties as my Lolo grace; 
No vision paint an image half so fair 
As thou, my idol, — and thou sought me here? 
Thou Beauty's self !" Then, in one long embrace 
Upon his breast pillowed her lovely face. 
In speechless joy her idoled form he pressed 
Close to the heart that trembled in his breast. 

" Not here, my Pasco — everywhere this heart 
In spirit-flight hath followed where thou wert. 
At morn and eve, and through night's visions still 
The paths exploring of each neighboring hill. 
As hope still promised with each coming day 
Thy watched return — how oft but to betray; 
And when its voice with less assurance came, 
While busy memory ceaseless called thy name, 
Love, trembling, sank on sorrow's pallid breast, 
And there, disconsolate, sobbed itself to rest. 
But this no more; sorrow shall wait on joy. 
Which must alone the hours now employ 



24 CUBA. 

With thy return, thou truant wanderer; 
And first account thee since we parted here. 
Then didst thou promise, by thine own true heart, 
E'en thus: 'but for a little time we part; ' 
And now the moon, then newborn, hung on high, 
Full thrice hath waned along the summer sky. 
And see! — why thus in military mien 
Art thou returned? Where hath my Pasco been. 
That thus of dress, as for some carnival. 
Absence has been so strangely prodigal? 
'T is sure thy humor, — yet thy pensive eye 
Scarce seems to bear such presence company." 

"Then with thine own softly persuasive eyes. 
Shall they but bear love's happier embassies: 
E'en as thou say'st: ' sorrow on joy shall wait,' 
As love would sorrow e'er anticipate 
Which still o'erbodes; while 't is but joy to weigh 
In love's sweet balance sorrows passed away. 
Called from thy side, still in our country's cause, 
The cause of justice and of freedom's laws 
Employed each hour, — too brief to liberty. 
Yet oh, how lengthened distant far from thee, 
Would 't were not mine to tell thee that in vain 
Our land still struggles 'neath oppression's chain; 
That still her sons must strive, nor free her soil 
From despots who her of her rights despoil. 
Come now the hour when all who love their isle, 



CUBA. 25 

As hating those who still her vales defile, 

Must strike for freedom, nor e'en shrink to bear 

Its standard foremost in the ranks of war." 



" Thus hast thou ever nobly borne thy part, 
Allegiance sharing but with this fond heart, 
My Pasco, till of all thou once possessed — 
All save thy life, in this art thou divest." 
"That gift alone is worthy freedom's cause, — 
Her voice reproachful till each patriot draws, — 
And if but ventured, on that hazard cast. 
Rich the reward, if that loved cause at last 
Triumphant stands; and if this may not be, 
Better to die than live for tyranny. 
But of thyself : first would I hear thee tell 
Of the time past which thou hast marked so well 
By the chaste moon, which now thy constancy 
Shall ever witness, near or far from thee." 
Then were recalled those hours of bitterness 
When hope beamed low, those tremblings of distress 
Which rend the heart when separation flings 
Dark, chilling shadows from its sombre wings. 
Each day remembered with its train of fears; 
Patience grown weary, faith subdued to tears, 
Fond expectation at the morning light 
Waking in smiles; in tears ere came the night. 
While morn and night hope watched unwearyingly, 
To soothe the pain of love's despondency. 



26 CUBA. 

Now in the brightness of joy's warmthful ray 
Dissolved in light, each shadow passed away, 
As 'neath the sun the mists of morning fade 
Which ere the dawn, earth's slumbering beauty 
shade. 



The hours had sped, — how swiftly do they fly, 
Unmarked by thought in love's sweet company, — 
Till now they led past the meridian height 
In robes of gold-edged fleece the god of light. 
Though marked the hour, yet still did Pasco fear 
To hope and love-expectant to declare 
Honor's last act, for well he knew that this 
Quick must consign sweet joy to bitterness. 
But now, 'neath Time's injunction, in his heart 
The pain that soon — fore'er perhaps, they must part, 
For utterance pressed, as thus again to thought 
Memory recalled his grief, in joy forgot. 
Then as some cloud which 'neath the moon's pure 

light 
Suffused with brightness, decks the brow of night. 
When swept away by spirit winds, that sigh 
Their weird lamentings through the silent sky, 
To darkness fades, thus borne from its bright sphere 
Into the regions of the nether air, 
Shadowing o'er the watching stars, but now 
Beaming in beauty on its silvery brow. 



CUBA. 27 

So the glad light which shone in Pasco's face, 

Reflected from love's fervent happiness, 

Faded away as now within his breast 

Grief's gathering mists their chilling darkness pressed. 

And spread a shade of anguish o'er his brow 

Which beamed so bright with happiness but now. 

But quick his heart again forbade that this 

Should shadow o'er his star of loveliness, 

As it recalled the cloud which thought had thrown 

Across his face, — yet ere 't was wholly gone. 

Her upturned eyes, then fixed upon his own, 

With love's perception marked that shadow fade, 

Which to her own his troubled heart betrayed. 

Then thus she spoke: " My Pasco, must I trace 

One line of sadness falling o'er thy face, 

Nor know the sorrows which thy heart invade. 

And thus the brightness of thine eyes o'ershade? 

Must love with love share naught but happiness, 

Nor make its own the sorrows that oppress 

The heart which yields the only joy it knows. 

From which the essence of its being flows? 

Nay, thus to share thy sorrows but shall be 

To add to love a keener ecstasy; 

Nor deem thy voice one accent e'ea can tell 

To pain this bosom — lest it \i^ farewell. 

For still with thee this heart can know no pain, 

And welcome sorrow when we part again." 



28 CUBA. 

While thus she spoke proud adoration filled 

His throbbing heart, with quickening pulses thrilled, 

As in his eyes rose those all holier fires 

Which pure affection in the breast inspires. 

While thus devotion in her heart displayed 

New springs of goodness ne'er before betrayed, 

From which sweet Faith with gracious hand supplied 

Entrancing draughts, thus doubly sanctified. 

But when of parting her loved accents spoke, 

From his sweet dream of happiness he woke. 

And in his heart, as falls a funeral knell. 

Broke the dread portence of that word, fai-ewell. 

Across his face anew pain's shadow crept. 

While in his eyes their wonted brightness slept, 

As sorrow-filled they sought the neighboring sea, 

In deep unquiet, as he made reply. 

Then thus he spoke: " My Lolo, could'st thou see 

Within my heart its weight of agony. 

That from thy side a voice all must obey — 

Liberty's death-cry, summons me away. 

Would love dare hide what honor's act hath done 

From thee e'en still my own, my lovely one. 

That for thy sake no slightest cloud should lower 

To cast one shadow in this longed for hour. 

Whence now I come, beset by tyrant hate. 

Gathered, our brothers for the struggle wait; 

Wait till our Cuba's foes again shall know 

Not unavenged her children's blood shall flow. 



CUBA. 29 

For though on freedom treads the oppressor's heel, 

Crushing it downward, shall the tyrants feel 

For them from freedom's bleeding wounds shall 

flow 
A vengeance deadlier than their hate can know. 
Yes, I have dared enlist for liberty 
The life which love consecrated to thee, 
'Neath whose promptings returned to thee, I bear 
My anxious heart, which asks thine own to share 
Its sacrifice, — the strength of love alone 
Love's faltering purpose can sustain, sweet one. 
The midnight passed unknown the shades of fate, 
For thee my heart with longing pulses beat, 
Whose sweet assurance should impart new life 
To brave the perils of th' impending strife. 
Then, though 't was death, for thee, my loveliness, 
Scaling the rocks which wall the mountain pass 
Where lie our band, I sought the neighboring sea. 
Whose friendly billows bore me safe to thee." 
She heard, yet dared not trust her tongue t' impart 
The cry of sorrow echoing in her heart. 
As motionless she clung to his embrace, — 
Save that along her frame her deep distress 
A tremor sent, the coldness of despair 
Within her heart, which now was chilling there. 
"And is it thus? " — Then shut within her breast. 
By sorrow prisoned, her sad accents ceased, 
As on his breast she sank, — a drooping flower, 



30 CUBA. 

Voiceless beneath that grief which hath but power 

To feel, and in its night of woe to see 

But the dark image of its agony! 

" Nay let not tears bedim thy lustrous eyes, 

Nor cloud of sorrow o'er thy beauty rise. 

For though night lowers it must pass away. 

And oh, what brightness waits returning day 

Before the sunlight melts along the main 

Its waves must bear me to our band again, 

While hope shall guard love's consecrated shrine. 

Which sacred charge to it must love resign." 

"To hope," she sobbed, "to hope, whose changeful 

ray. 
Ever receding, beams but to betray, 
While still with light delusive it illumes 
The mists of sorrow which it ne'er consumes. 
But no " (and now in calmer voice she spoke. 
Though from her breast its anguished pulses broke 
In trembling utterance), " no, our country's need 
Must not unanswered to her children plead; 
And shall her daughters from that cup once shrink 
Which to its dregs her sons so proudly drink? 
Go thou, my Pasco, though each hour shall knell 
Its wail of sorrow from this sad farewell. 
And night returning in each breath shall sigh 
The weary reckoning of recurring day 
Till thy return. O God, should this be not!"— 



CUBA. 31 

And hope shrank, trembling, from that diieful 

thought, 
As one wild burst of anguish swept her breast 
And choked its pulses, trembling into rest. 
Amid the flowers he laid her form, and now 
Smoothed the dark tresses from her pallid brow, 
And with caresses, as o'er he kneeled, 
Sought to restore the life which pain congealed, 
And through their channels from her heart to bear 
The crowding currents which were chilling there! 
A spirit-tenderness sought her sweet face, 
Soothing each line to placid loveliness; 
A beatific calm, like that in death 
Which still reflects, though ceased fore'er the breath, 
The soul's last, sweetest smile, serenely spread 
O'er the all but living features of the dead. 
Now raised her eyelids, fringed in mourning hue, 
Where tears were trembling, as the early dew 
Trembles in beauty, 'neath the paling night, 
Ere well the sun dissolves it into light. 
On him, half wondering, fixed her saddened eyes. 
Where resignation draped love's sympathies, 
Which there were gathered, with her sable shade, 
For hope deep in the heart's sepulchre laid. 

As in his arms he raised her to his side, 
Around his neck her own were fondly laid, 



^2 CUBA. 

While that pure tribute, love's chaste throbbings 

yield, 
Upon his lips in lingering fear was sealed. 
" Farewell, my Lolo," and his voice betrayed 
The deep emotion which his bosom swayed; 
"Farewell; the night must to my comrades prove 
That Pasco's honor's stronger than his love, 
And shame the fear which stings my thought to view, 
That to his country Pasco is untrue. 



One kiss — another — 

Now alone she stood 
Amid the shades of grief's dread solitude, 
While in her heart, else lifeless, echoed o'er 
Love's anguished accents: "lost for evermore." 

VII. 

The moon high o'er El Cobre's sombre height 
Dispelled the shades of the unwelcome night, 
Flooding the vale and towering mountain side 
In silvery light. Ad own the val'ley gleamed 
In gentle curves, the river's wandering tide, 
Till gliding 'twixt a chasmed rock it seemed 
To seek repose 'neath the o'ershadowing height, — 
Whose frowning brow repelled the soft moonlight, - 
As some great serpent winds its weary length 



CUBA. 33 

Into the darkness of the cavern's strength. 
Weired, ominous, like dread plutonian shades, 
High up the mount, o'er glooming crag and pass. 
Ranged the dark pines, which the bright, starry 

hosts, 
Sentrying the night, seemed watching tremulous! 
No sound disturbed the stillness save the cry 
Of the lone night-bird, calling plaintively. 
With the soft voice, communing with the night, 
Of falling water, white in the moonlight. 
Which from the mountain sought the river's breast, 
And with it mingling, hushed itself to rest. 
Far up the height, along a mountain pass, 
Skirting the brink of measureless abyss. 
Now and anon gleamed, 'gainst the darkened 

height 
Of rock o'ertowering, the portentous light 
Of glist'ning steel, whose momentary gleams 
Chilled the soft whiteness of the moon's pale 

beams. 
There on the height repose the patriots sought. 
Slumbering upon their arms, yet wakeful caught 
The voice which told another hour had gone 
That cunning Time from friendly Night had won. 
As in the mount's defile the sentinel 
In cautious utterance said, "Men all is well," 
Then quick again upon the pass he stood. 
Courting its shades, as the calm solitude 



34 CUBA. 

Of vale and pass he watched with jealous care, — 
Ah! who could dream that death was lurking there? 



VIII. 

''And dost thou think the rebel watch can sight 
From where thou say'st they hold yon mountain 

height, 
The stream below, where shades its breadth half o'er 
Yon darkening cliff ? There may the farther shore 
Alone be reached; too deep the river's bed 
Here, where concealed these friendly shades o'er- 

spread. 
To ford its depths: — and 'tis a soldier's creed 
If men must die, 't is nobler that they bleed; 
Then if our foes be they of Yara's fight. 
None may be spared who strive for Spain to-night. 
But there we cross, — and thou canst lead us on. 
As thou hast said, and by a path unknown? " 

" I can, my chief; within a gorge it ends. 

And thence the way 'neath towering rocks ascends 

To a plateau where lie the rebel crew — 

The pass is sure — the rest an hour must show!" 

" Thou speakest well. Soldiers," he turning, said, — 

The dark battalion there beneath the shade 

Stood motionless, — 



CUBA. 35 

"The enemies of Spain 
Keep yonder height, nor dream ere night shall wane 
The rocks that now their rebel slumbers keep 
Loud shall re-echo with their own death- shriek. 
We cross below where yonder rock o'ershades; 
Look to your arms; see that no naked blades 
A warning bear to traitor eyes, for know 
But to their hearts such messengers should go." 
Then to the guide: " Pepillo, lead the way; 
Now steady — March! " The column moved away 
Along the stream, and silently it trod 
With measured cadence o'er the yielding sod. 
Soon reached the ford, they halted. " Pepillo, 
Scan well the height — say, canst thou see the foe? " 
" Look thou, my chief, see'st thou that gleam of 

light? 
Wait but a moment — now upon the height 
Above the fall? " 

" Aye, there — but now 't is gone " — 
" Lose not a moment " — 

" Steady, men, as one, 
March!" 

In they moved. Invaded thus, the stream 
Plaintively murmured, as in some strange dream 
The restless slumberer. 

— Soon 't was left to rest. 
And scarce a ripple trembled on its breast. 
Traversed the plain, 'neath the disguising wood 



36 CUBA. 

Soon at the mount the halted column stood. 
Once more was scanned with stealthy eyes the height; 
Once more there glimmered that betraying light, 
As the clear moon illumed the pass, till now 
Veiled by the shadows from the cliffs dark brow. 
Beneath the pines that clothed the mountain side 
The chief held whispered council with the guide; 
Then at their head, prepared to lead the band, 
Pepillo waited for the chief's command, 
Who at his side in measured whispers said, 
While all stood motionless as are the dead, 
"Now comrades, softly; muffle e'en your breath, 
Nor let your footsteps tell of coming death. 
When reached the gorge, by fours close column keep; 
Thence scarce ten paces where the rebels sleep. 
Where once again must traitors' bosoms feel 
The deadly coldness of the Spaniards' steel." 



IX. 



Along the orient sky the day, 

In morning robes of sombre gray, 

Crept on apace, as Pasco stood 

In turn to guard the solitude 

Of the defile and vale below. 

Which now the moon — suspended low, 

With shadows thronged,that lengthening loomed 



CUBA. 37 

Along the glen, slow, weirdly, 

Like shades of Titan forms away 

From their tombs summoned, — on earth doomed 

To silence, gathering dark-plumed there, 

As if the dying night to bear 

To its mysterious sepulchre! 

Beneath the soothing breath of morn 

His comrades, all fatigued and worn 

By marches long and restless sleep, 

Now lay, o'ercome, in slumber deep, — 

Yet wakeful o'er each weary breast 

One thought guarded the patriots' rest: 

Ah, but for this it had been mad 

To trust to slumber all they had 

In hope, — from freedom's beckoning star 

Which brightly beamed, though distant far! 

That thought their land, which to such hearts 

A deathless, double life imparts. 

An hour had passed, and Pasco stept 

Within the pass to where still slept 

His comrades, though their eyelids lay 

Just closed by sleep's sweet mystery. 

He turned the cliff — 

Then forward sprang. 
As on the startled silence rang. 
Rebounding with a hundred shocks 



38 CUBA. 

From peak to peak of towering rocks, 

His carbine's crash — the signal set 

Should night unmask her dread alarms, 

And they surprised, by foes beset, 

No moment find to call to arms — 

For springing from a neighboring height. 

With bayonets glimmering in the light 

Of early dawn, he there beheld 

The hated foe, — as wildly swelled 

Those maddening pulses in his breast 

Those feel by tyranny oppressed, 

Which know no wilder throb of hate 

Than that when face to face they meet 

Their Despot's slaves, who crav'n would dare 

To bind them with the chains they wearJ 

Quick as his thought his lead as true, 

Struck from the cliff a foeman low; 

Nor had the signal failed, as told 

A crash of musketry which rolled, 

Re-echoing with the thunder's might 

From where the patriots held the height, 

'Neath which above the crash arose 

The death-shriek of a score of foes, 

Which from the patriots brought a cry 

Of stern, defiant mockery. 

Then quick, in fierce reply, out-rang, 

As Pasco 'midst his comrades sprang, 

A volley from the Spaniard band, 



CUBA. 39 

Now closing fas t on every hand, 

And 'neath its storm of iron hail 

Full many a noble patriot fell, 

Employing still ere hushed by death. 

The accents of his latest breath 

In freedom's name, as to her foes 

His shout of proud defiance rose. 

As sweeps the waves' impetuous might 

Against the cliff's opposing height, 

Their foam- locks streaming in the storm. 

Each like some fierce, demoniac form. 

On rushing with resistless force 

The strength which seeks to stay their course. 

Till backward hurled in turn they lie 

Low quivering in their parent sea. 

Again to rise — and yet again; 

As oft' flung backward to the main. 

Yet shivering as they fiercely rush 

The rock-firm height they may not crush! 

So now, with bayonets set, and hair 

Back floating on the troubled air. 

No time for aught save steel now left. 

Forward the island patriots swept. 

Led on, — if aught the brave e'er lead^ 

By Pasco, waving at their head 

Their country's flag, full proud to give 

Their lives, that its loved cause might live. 

Fired by the madly coursing blood 

Which swelled each pulse, a frenzying flood, 



40 CUBA. 

Upon the hireling foe they dashed 
Undaunted, though out-belching flashed, 
Full in their course, a withering breath 
Of flame-red-tongued, which seethed with death. 
Mute as the dead, nor stopped, nor stayed. 
With fixed eyes and jaws close laid; 
Each springing where a comrade fell. 
There summoned by his last death-yell, 
Breathing that atmosphere of hell! 
Onward they swept like wave on rock, 
Till now, with all resistless shock, 
Closing upon the foe, they rushed — 
Beneath that shock, recoiling, crushed 
Down — down, as many a bosom writhed 
Beneath the freezing steel there sheathed; 
That lingered not, but quick once more 
With tireless vengeance reeked in gore 
From breast to breast, congealing there 
The currents stagnant 'neath despair. 
Till cleft the arm which urged it fell 
Low quivering in its purple rill! 

High swelled the frightful din of war. 
The wild death-shriek; the shivering jar 
Of splintering steel; the stifled groan, 
Half choked ere breathed; the fitful moan 
From life's low pulse; the sabres' clash; 
The murd'rous volley, flash on flash; 
The locking bayonets, rent apart. 



CUBA, 41 

To plunge revengeful in each heart, 

As if, imbued with very life. 

Conscious they shared their masters' strife! 

Now backward forced, scarce half remain. 

But step by step — then yet again 

Fierce dashing on the wavering foe, 

Each laid another Spaniard low, 

As sinews straining, hand to hand, 

The few still left of that brave band — 

Pale as the dead; each forehead set 

With beads of cold, congealed sweat; 

Sprang at a foe, defiant still, 

In hate which death alone could kill. 

Ah! who that awful shock may tell, 

When waves of human anger swell 

In fierce contention; battling where 

Meet livid hate and grim despair; 

Who paint that hour of frenzied strife 

When passion spares not — asks not life; 

Nor thrills to joy's exultant breath 

As to the closing cry of death 

Forced from the heart wherein the steel 

It presses with a savage zeal! 

Beset as one of wolves the prey, 
O'ermatching numbers kept at bay. 
Back forced, contesting foot by foot; 
Red-stained from many a streaming cut, 
There Pasco, foremost in the fray, 



42 CUBA. 

Battled the foe defiantly! 

Above his head the flag he held, 

One arm but free its folds to shield, 

Which wielded with resistless might 

His sabre, — busiest in the fight. 

Struck from his hands the colors lay. 

Forward he dashed: the foe gave way. 

Save one more bold who dared contest 

His way, and sought from him to wrest 

The prize regained, but all in vain — 

One more was numbered with the slain! 

As up his height he proudly drew. 

And fearless scoffed the hated foe. 

But the fast ebbing scarlet tide 

Down coursing from this breast and side, 

Had sapped his life, and his proud cry 

Broke in a gasp of agony! 

Fast on their victim doomed they press — 

Back yielding, till by deep abyss. 

From which up-rose a doleful roar. 

Like that from waves which beat the shore, 

Far distant heard, now Pasco stood 

Defiant still — still unsubdued. 

While round him, eager for his life, 

His foes fast closed. The torrent's strife, 

Deep down the gorge, he heard, and knew 

It swept unmeasured depths below, 

Nor aught between where hope could trace 

For Daring's foot a refuge place! 



CUBA. 43 

Then the first fear his bosom knew 

Cast o'er his face a pallid hue, 

As there commingling curdled stood 

Out-starting drops of sweat and blood. 

One glance quick sought the foe-kept pass; 

Quick one the yawning precipice, 

Then with a shout of proud disdain, 

A challenge to the arms of Spain! 

He turned and down the canon leaped, 

Still grasped the flag so bravely kept; 

So nobly borne in life, 't was meet 

In death 't should be his winding-sheet. 



X. 



The struggle o'er, in death's embrace 

Each patriot soldier, face to face 

There with his foe, sank down to rest. 

Undrawn the steel from many a breast. 

The sunbeams there that morning played 

On many a shattered sabre blade 

Still grasped — with strength which, yieldlessly, 

Surviving life, seemed to defy 

E'en death — by those who, now laid low 

Fore'er, there but an hour ago 

Opposed them in that deadly strife. 

Refusing, as they spared not life ! 

Still now the scene, which but before 

Re-echoed with fierce battle's roar; 



44 CUBA. 

And mingling there together flowed 
The Patriots' and the Spaniards' blood. 
No sign of life was seen save where 
The vulture hovering high in air 
Amid the sky's ethereal blue, 
Looked down upon the scene below. 
As they had fall'n, so there they lay 
Till Time should hide them in decay; 
Nor lived one of that band to tell 
How Cuba's valiant children fell! 



^fe^nje— SS— ^ J^> - 



I 



MAY. 



A PASTORAL. 



Spreads thi fresh verdure of the fields and leads 
The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads." 

Cowper, 



I. 

Hail vernal goddess with thy floral train! 

Nor from thy praises can my Muse refrain, 

As thou, approaching with thy bright- clad throng, 

Awak'st the earth to merriment and song. 

With loudest praise 't would welcome thee again 

As thy swift forces drive back o'er the main 

With shafts of sunlight, from the blighted earth, 

The ice-shod powers of the frozen North! 

It would thy course o'er hill and mead pursue. 

As all thou deck'st with robes of richest hue. 

And strew'st with flowers whose countless challice 

blooms 
Upon the air exhale their sweet perfumes. 

Beneath bright skies, fresh-azured from thy hand, 
Which smiling bend t' embrace the waiting land, 
Adorned by thee, see kindly mother Earth 
Invite a-field her children. Health and Mirth, 
(45) 



46 MAY. 

Laughter and joy respond exultantly, 

And haste to join thy jocund company, 

While on glad wing, upon thy course attend 

The plumaged choir called from the summer-land. 

Close in thy steps, by sportive Frolic led, 
The merry cortege gambols o'er the mead, 
While songs of gladness fill the scene around. 
Which hill and dale harmoniously resound, 
Borne by the swift-winged zephyrs through the air, 
Till Joy's full voice reechoes everywhere! 

11. 

All beauteous Spring! thou darling of the spheres, 
Before whose smile shamed Winter disappears; 
His face conceals yet lingers to survey 
The glad'ning prospects which thy charms display. 
What are thy charms let Nature's self declare 
To those who doubting to her courts repair, 
Where scenes delightful stretch on every hand, 
When thou with beauty spread'st the smiling land. 
Thy glory — not the pageantry of kings, 
My Muse adoring all enraptured sings; 
Not wealth's vain pomp, which partial Fate bestows 
Upon the few to mock the many's woes — 
Sinking its slaves in luxuries that blind 
Till man becomes unfaithful to mankind; 
Not thus with thee: with bounty prodigal, 
Impartially dost thou dispense to all, 



MAY. 47 

Around the peasant in his lowly cot, 
Strewing thy gifts where princes are forgot, 
Nor circumscribed 'mong all earth's kind appears 
The meanest being but thy riches shares !- 

And thus thy hands e'en o'er the lonely dead, 
Richest of flowers with lavish kindness spread, 
Whose blossoms laden Avith most rare perfume, 
Attest thy memory of the silent tomb. 
There where the cherished of our hearts repose 
When reached that bourne where life's tired foot- 
steps close 
Beneath o'er-bending shades they brightly bloom. 
Tinting the deepening shadows of the tomb, 
By thee from earth, 'neath winter's blight there laid, 
Raised to new life — fit emblems of the dead. 
There, like sweet guardian angels they appear, 
Breathing rich incense on the hallowed air 
And, spirit-voiced, in language love may know. 
Commune with us of those who sleep below, 
While their pure symbols to fond memory give 
The sweet assurance that they ever live. 

But still the glories of thy work I sing, 
O ever beauteous, ever friendly Spring! 
Amid thy scenes delighted still I stray, 
And all thy charms with fondest joy survey. 
O'er hill and dale behold the forests bare, 
The foremost subject of thy generous care, 



4^ MAY. 

To thee out-stretching their denuded arras, 

Impatient for the robes and floral charms 

Thou bringest them — their shivering limbs long bare 

To hostile winter's rough and frigid air, 

Soon verdure clad, they stand magnificent: 

Of thy great work the grandest monument! 

III. 

As the fresh Morn, pluming her wings of light. 
Suffused with beauty takes her joyous flight 
From the blue arch that holds the orient sky, 
Which her bright wings with roseate tints supply: 
When the first beams of the approaching day 
With aureate splendor gild earth, sky, and sea, — 
That tranquil hour which Contemplation loves. 
When Nature from her dewy slumber moves, — 
How sweet to wander o'er the smiling fields. 
And breathe the fragrance Nature's garden yields. 
As, one by one, the waking songsters raise 
From hedge and branch their grateful matin lays. 
With tuneful brooks and music-whispering trees, 
Greeting the morn with sweetest symphonies. 
There crowning all in the delightful scene, 
The sun with gold floods earth's imperial green, 
As on the view come forth in glorious birth 
Unnumbered flowers to deck their mother earth. 
Till field and forest, clad in radiant light 
Stand forth all beauteous — rapturing the sight. 
As wakened Nature in glad concert sings, 



MAY. 49 

By warblers led, who with applauding wings, 
Softly accordant, swell the praiseful hymn 
Which heavenward rises, incensed by perfume! 

High 'mid the blue the lark pours his glad song, 
And hurrying by the swallow skims along, 
While the swift plover as she upward springs 
Flashes the sunbeams from her lightning wings. 
The faithful redbreast, first of all the year. 
Sings to its mate in numbers softly clear. 
And gives good-morrow to the whistling thrush. 
Who sends her greeting from a neighboring bush. 
Along the meads brooks babble as they run, 
O'er pebbles irridescent 'neath the sun. 
With smiles for every flower and every blade 
Which their glad course attend through wood and 

glade. 
Along their marge the clustering cresses grow 
Fringing the banks, where new-born violets blow. 
Whence thick a-field, gilding the velvet mead. 
The regal king-cups their gold livery spread. 
While everywhere o'er field and woodland sway 
In balmy breezes the sweet flowers of May. 
Upon some mount that overlooks the mead 
Reclined, the view commanding wood and glade, 
Whence to the hills the freshly verdured ground 
In graceful undulations spreads around. 
How rapturous on each lovely scene to dwell 
And, yielding to sweet Meditation's spell. 



50 MAY. 

To contemplate Nature's stupendous scheme, 

Wondrous creation of a Power supreme! 

On every hand some lesson man may learn, 

In every flower some sacred truth discern, 

In beauty shown, fresh from the source of all 

Given to man by wisdom bountiful. 

View 'mid sharp thorns the rose her beauty wears, 

E'en as the thorn the sweetest blossoms bears; 

Mark the meek violet, and the giant tree, 

Share His regard, each in required degree, 

All eloquent. His high munificence 

Proclaim, and show impartial Providence! 

The day is done — and evening gently veils 
In violet light the hills; the wooded dales 
In deeper tints, as 'neath the western dome 
The twilight lingers till the stars be come. 
The lowing herd slow homeward wends its way; 
Each drowsy member following o'er the lea — 
Loitering a moment at the wayside stream 
On which the last faint flecks of daylight gleam. 

Amid the wood, sings modest Philomel; 

Upon the silence her love madrigal 

As sweetly falling as the tinkling rill 

Heard through the midnight when all else is still. 

Softly quick Echo, wakened at the strain. 

Replies accordant to the sweet refrain 



MAY. 5 1 

From secret haunts which none but wood-nymphs 

know, 
Save the Enchantress of the lunar bow. 
Soon dewy showers disturb the evening lay, 
And Philomela's warblings die away, 
As with her Echo sinks into repose, 
And silence o'er the earth her mantle throws. 

Thou God of Life, all- wise, all-bountiful! 
Eternal One! as thou art source of all 
The riches which the ladened Seasons bear 
To fill the Earth with beauty everywhere, 
The power — the glory which my grateful theme 
Would celebrate unto Thy sacred name 
Alone belong, as the revolving spheres 
With countless tongues, along the rolling years. 
Ceaseless proclaim! Still ever be it mine 
To swell the praises of Thy power divine; 
To know Thee ever as Thou dost reveal 
Thyself in Nature, v/here Invisible 
Doth name Thee not, Almighty One! for there 
In love and power configured Thou dost appear! 



The Old Sexton's Christmas Dream. 



I. 

'Tis Christmas eve, and a cold clear night, 

And the earth is filled with the white moon-light. 

Which falls through the frosty air from on high, 

From the crystal blue of a winter's sky, 

And glistening rests on the drifted snow. 

And gleams on the half-iced stream below; 

And the slumbering earth, robed in white, arrays 

With multitudinous diamond sprays. 

By the Frost-king there unradiant strewn, 

Till illumed by the white-fire touch of the moon. 

II. 

Round the mountain's base the river glides, 

'Neath the shadowy pine on its rugged sides. 

And creeps through the vale by the evergreen shade: 

By the fringing willows, all leafless made; 

By the hazel-copse, by the ice-bound wheel 

Of the moated, long unbusy mill, 

And into the quiet burg hard by. 

Whose quaint tile roofs sharply rise on high, 

Then onward flows to the distant wood. 

Where its voice alone stirs the solitude. 

(52) 



THE OLD SEXTON S CHRISTMAS DREAM. 53 

III. 

The village church caps a neighboring hill, 

O'ergrown with ivy and tufted moss, 

'Neath giant poplars weirdly still, 

Which a shadowy net-work weave across 

The snow's white folds on roof and tower, 

(There deftly spread as by magic power); 

While above gleams the spire with its cross on 

high. 
Set 'mid the brilliants that fill the sky. 

IV. 

From the gothic windows a dim light creeps 
Through the colored panes, and softly glows 
On the whitened sills, where it restless sleeps, 
Or steals o'er the clustering moss that grows 
On mullion and transom and eaves above, 
(By lacing ivy there interwove); 
Then fades within — to appear again 
Softly tinting the many-colored pane. 

V. 

Old Kasper, the sexton, had wrought within 
As the midnight hour crept on apace. 
With clusters of holly and evergreen 
Adorning the walls of the holy place. 
Till weary grown; yet with heart aglow 
As he thinks of the morrow's eve, and how 
The children, with faces alight, will press 



54 THE OLD SEXTON'S CHRISTMAS DREAM. 

Round the Christmas tree in its loveliness. 
Now a little rest, as he croons a hymn, 
He seeks in a cushioned sconce, the while 
In the flickering light, growing yet more dim, 
O'erscanning the drapings in chancel and aisle; 
And reclining thus — soothed the tired sight 
'Neath cradling shadows that flit and creep, — 
Unconscious he drifts 'neath the trance of night 
And the mind, flower-wise, folds itself in sleep. 

VI. 

'Tis the Elfin band who all silently 

Weave the web of sleep, have him captive ta'en 

And laid 'neath the spell of their sorcery 

They bind him tight with their silken chain. 

And in shadowy folds, which they weave from night, 

They muffle him close for their mystic flight. 

'Tis the potent watch of the Elfin reign, 

And they gather fast on every hand. 

And soon at their visored chief's command 

Is their captive borne to their bright domain. 

To the golden scenes of the vision-land. 

Swift as thought its enchanted bounds they pass 

And its brilliance breaks 'neath the bluest height 

Of a fairyland bathed in roseate light. 

Filled with throngs of its airy populace. 

And they move through grottos with jewels bright. 

Glittering many-hued in the rich rose-light, 



THE OLD SEXTONS CHRISTMAS DREAM. 55 

That steals within, with the perfumed air, 
From the flower-filled dells of the mystic sphere, 
Half seen beyond, 'twixt the arches high, 
Whence comes the sound of festivity. 

VII. 

The shadowy veil from the captive falls 

And his bonds change to garlands of blossoms rare, 

And they onward move as when pleasure calls 

And gladness and beauty is everywhere. 

And thus to the royal court they come; 

Reared on tinted marbles its crystal dome. 

Round circling in graceful colonnades, 

With fountains between, 'neath emblossomed shades, 

And in the midst on an ivory throne, 

(Its seat irridescent opal stone). 

Sits the Fairy- Queen robed in lily white. 

And crowned with a circlet of diamond light. 

VIII. 

On every side 'neath her gracious smile 
Her people the festive hours beguile 
In merry round, while on busy wing 
Some richest fruits to the banquet bring. 
For in fairy realm, — as proclaims the scene 
With its joy, good cheer and emblems green 
Speaking grateful praise, — 'tis a time of feast 
And thanksgiving for a danger past 



56 THE OLD sexton's CHRISTMAS DREAM. 

To a noble king who freed their land 
From a giant grim, and on every hand 
Rarest fruits are spread, and glad heralds call 
Fairyland to the royal festival. 

IX. 

They gather fast from glade and grot, 
Elves and sylvan sprites and butterfly fays, 
Their little forms decked in textures wrought 
P>om flowers and broidered with gossamer rays. 
And they join in the bright festivities. 
Till the scene with their bouyant gladness rings, 
While the air is filled with sweet harmonies 
From their tinkling spangles and tuneful wings. 

X. 

But all is hushed ; for the fairy-queen 
Stands forth, and surveying with gracious mien 
The throngs which gallery and court-ways fill. 
Thus in accents clear speaks the sovereign will :■ 
" Our much-loved people, most glad are we 
To welcome you all to our royal fete, 
On this festal day when the memory 
Of our Champion-King we celebrate. 
Throughout the bounds of our goodly State 
To share our joy we have called you here. 
And your presence with loving heart we greet, 
The humblest alike with our highest Deer. 



THE OLD SEXTON S CHRISTMAS DREAM. 5/ 

So all strangers sojourning in our domain, 
Have we bidden come — alike welcome all, 
For all hearts should meet on love's equal plane 
This day of love's grateful festival. 

" To-day, as he whom we honour came 

Of his own free will and kingly grace 

To save our realm, love alone should claim 

Our hearts and therein all else displace, 

While each for the other's happiness 

Gives foremost thought, as true love e'er will. 

And so shall the hours most joyous pass 

And goodness her highest charge fulfill. 

For the choice first-fruits which our people bring, 

As their custom 'tis from year to year, 

An oblation to our most honoured king. 

We yield due thanks. We ourselves shall bear 

Your offerings to him whom we all revere, 

For in honouring him most honour we 

Ourselves and the State we hold most dear, 

Which to him proudly yields its fealty. 

" And now let the feast proceed. Let all 
In our joy and good cheer participate, 
While the Dance and Song in glad carnival 
Rule the hour. Let each present emulate 
The next in mirth till our banquet hall 
With rejoicings loud reverberates ; 



58 THE OLD sexton's CHRISTMAS DREAM. 

While all hearts are linked in a chain of love 
That not fate nor the tides of years can move." 

XI. 

The Sovereign ceased. A round of glad acclaim 
And greetings followed, till the sound did seem 
To fill the air, yet soft as music is 
Of trebles sweet in gentlest harmonies. 
Poised o'er the throne or gliding on swift wing 
The fays of air moved gaily — scattering 
About their Queen rare floral sweets, whose blooms 
Imbued the air with delicate perfumes. 

XII. 
Throughout, the dwellers in this mystic sphere 
Greeted with joy their stranger visitor. 
Tendering rich fruits where'er he chanced to pass, 
As curtsying low with smiles and airy grace, 
Or strewing blossoms as he moved along 
Entranced with wonder 'mid the Fairy throng ; 
Wondering the while that so much beauty dwelt 
So close to earth, unknown — unguessed — unfelt. 

* ^ * -ir 

XIII. 
So sped the hours — how swiftly do they fly 
When only gladness bears them company ; 
When the rapt soul is moved by joy alone 
And recollection of all else is gone ; 
So sped the hours, — enchanting as they passed. 



THE OLD sexton's CHRISTMAS DREAM. 59 

Sparkling with beauty all too bright to last. 

And now appeared high 'mid the luminous air, 

Flashing fresh beams of beauty everywhere. 

A form refulgent ; than all else more bright 

Bathing the scene in wonder-working light. 

Investing all ; each ray a shaft of flame, 

In might increasing as it grandly came, 

Till it did seem as its full glory filled 

The scene, (quick at the radiant advent stilled 

To breathless calm) all in its strength to hold 

And to transfigure into shimmering gold. 

The ambient blue dissolved ; a tremulous glow 

Of opal splendor flooded all below. 

As countless hues there glittering but before. 

Slow fading from the view, were seen no more. 

Yet though bereft of color still remained 

Each form and outhne in the vision-land, 

But silent now and motionless — a sight 

Of phantom pictures melting into light. 

Then 'neath its power, soon all potential grown, 

The fairy realm ; its populace, the throne 

To formless light were fused — 

And Kasper woke 
As on his face, through the church windows, broke 
The rising sun ; the sun of Christmas day 
Flooding the earth with its resplendent ray. 



CHATTERTON. 



That marvellous boy that perished in his pride." 

Wordsworth. 



Inspire, O Muse, the sadd'ning theme I raise 
To one who loved thy presence, — sang thy praise 
In sweetest voice of all thy minstrel choir 
From the first hour his fingers swept the lyre 
Received from thee, — its dulcet strings supplied 
From silver in that fire purified 
Which in the temple of thy sacred hill, 
Though now but smouldering, warms thy altar still. 
Inspire my theme: a theme adorned to grace 
The sweetest song, the noblest minstrel's lays, 
To one whose lyre, so rich its numbers came, 
Shed a new glory on thy sacred name. 
A heaven-born spirit which from its bright sphere 
Wandering to earth, lingered a little here 
To sing the songs which it had known before 
With kindred spirits on the Elysian shore, — 
Earth's tongue in their celestial harmonies 
Re-echoing here the music of the skies! 
(60) 



CHATTERTON. 6l 

Sweet bard! how bright thy sun of promise rose, 
Yet oh, what shadows gathered toward the close, 
And ere it reached the height of life's noon-day 
Fore'er in darkness quenched its wondrous ray. 
How bright that sun, behold where passed its light 
A ray of glory illumines death's night, 
Yielding a beam immortal to that fire 
Which on Fame's height lights Genius' sacred pyre. 

As lesser spheres a symmetry do show 

As truly perfect as the greater, so 

The narrowed circle of thy life not less 

Perfection showed for its littleness. 

Where, like the planet with the belt of light. 

Thy star of Genius blazed along the height 

Of fame unique; and though so quickly gone, 

Gave forth a glory which was all thine own. 

Of all mankind the Muse did e'er endow 

'Twas thine alone mature in youth to know. 

" The gift divine," wherein thou didst display — 

An inspiration but revealed in thee, 

With genius, knowledge ; knowledge e'en earth's 

Seers 
Amazed beheld — to all the work of years ! 

Amid the quiet of primeval woods. 
Where the sweet voices of its solitudes 
Contentment breathed, the brook, the meek-faced 

flower, 
The grateful songster, and in night's still hour 



62 CHATTERTON. 

The stars were thy sweet loves, still sought by thee 

With more than fondest lover's constancy, 

Drawn to their chasteness by that force that gives 

To love to seek its own correlatives. 

With the eternal hills : the great, deep sea 

Familiar didst thou commune ; they to thee 

Were but as loved companions. With dread voice 

The Tempest, robed in night, earth, sea and skies 

Stirring to strife — as through the trembling air, 

Hurling its bolts it swept, its course the glare 

Of the fierce lightnings 'luming, — was to thee 

A sight which gave thy soul supremacy 

Of joy, as with the Storm-king's awful form 

Attendant rode thy spirit on the storm ! 

Thy faithful heart, — e'en as the clinging vine 
Struck by the worm, round its loved ones did twine 
Its richest offerings, yielding sweetest breath 
E'en while below cankered the worm of death. 
Thy love its rich warm soil ; its only air 
Draughts humid 'neath the cold mists of despair ; 
Its only light, hope's distant, dying ray, 
A spark expiring in eternal day ! 

Relentless fate, inexplicable doom ! 

Which thus consigned thy genius to the tomb. 

And swept thy hopes ; thy promise richly fair 

Into the grave to sleep forever there, 

Nor let thee know in life's resigning breath 

The kindred voice that soothes the pain of death. 



CHATTERTON 63 

Then in thy mind bright scenes forever past, 
Upon thy soul distracting shadows cast, 
To make thine anguish still but deeper grow, 
Till thou hadst supped the very dregs of woe ; 
While — as the lightning's momentary flight 
Illumes the clouds, encumbering the night. 
And breaks the darkness of the midnight sky 
But to increase its black intensity, — 
Memories of home within thy hapless breast 
Flashed through despair's thick cloud that round 

thee pressed. 
Which in their brightness served but to illume 
And show how dark the shadows of the tomb. 
And, passed away, in thy distracted mind. 
Left a dread darkness doubly black behind. 

Insatiate Pride ! beneath thy direful sway, 
Thou scourge of earth, thou subtle votary 
Of Death ! of Genius all thou mayst o'ercome. 
How oft hath sought the silence of the tomb. 
Youth, Beauty, Worth, earth's mightiest thy prey ; 
Overthrown by thee see Nations in decay. 
Of which thou'st left, — of Genius, Nations all, 
But monuments to show how great their fall. 
Serpent-like, coiled within that hapless breast, 
Implacable ! 'Twas thou his life oppressed ; 
With lying tongue on to destruction, stilled 
The voice of reason, thou his steps beguiled. 



64 CHATTERTON. 

Then e'en when most thou promised, did betray 
To death the victim of thy perfidy. 
And thou, O World ! in thy cold selfishness, 
Witnessed the victim fall, yet to distress. 
Borne e'en that thou might'st greater riches know, 
Brought not relief, nay, dealt the final blow 
Which all of genius death hath power to bind, 
To the dark precincts of the tomb confined. 

Is it for this the Muse her riches gives ; 

Is it for this that patient Genius strives 

Earth's unseen things of beauty to reveal 

From secret places gleaned with tireless zeal, — 

To live the drudge of penury and care ; 

The dupe of hope ; the victim of despair ; 

The world's cold incredulity to brave ; 

To sink forgotten to a timeless grave. 

That those may share a wealth which else must lie 

Buried in Nature's sealed infinity. 

Who while they scruple not the fruits t' enjoy. 

Ungrateful coldly pass the laborer by. 

May shame o'erwhelm thee. Selfishness ! when on 
The tomb that holds the dust of Chatterton 
Thou look'st. Thou Pride, should'st thou per- 
chance there too 
Resort, may'st thou remorseful sorrow know, 
While humbled ye within your hearts confess. 
Else dumb, how less ye are than littleness ! 



SEA PICTURES. 



One summer's day, beside the murmuring sea, 

Stretched on the beach, I slept, and dreamed I saw 

A noble ship, which, out upon the deep. 

Moved proudly o'er the waters toward the east. 

Calm as a mountain lake the ocean lay 

Beneath the brightness of a noon-day sun. 

Yet did it seem as if the sultry air 

Of summer's heated breath upon its breast 

Oppressive lay, and in its mighty heart, 

Deep down, disturbed its slumbering forces — stirred 

To restless throbbings, as its bosom swelled 

In slow pulsation, and then sank away 

In strange disquietude. Encircling, arched 

Sublimely o'er the azure vault of heaven. 

Upon whose royal height enthroned sat 

The god of day, in dazzling glory robed. 

O'er the still depths the ship majestic moved, 

As sportively she scattered with her prow, 

About her path, — all glittering in the sun. 

Unnumbered brilliants of unnumbered hues, 

Which she did gather from the emerald deep, 

While from her rolled upon the drowsy air 

(65) 



66 SEA PICTURES. 

A long, dark line of fume, which sought the haze 

Of roseate tint, far in the glimmering distance. 

Upon her decks the "toilers of the sea," 

Sun-browned in service, each his duty sought, 

While in the rigging some the useless sail 

With busy fingers folded to the yards. 

All merry-hearted singing as they wrought. 

Beneath an awning shading from the sun 

Reclined the ocean voyagers, and there 

Upon the air all merrily arose 

The careless laugh, the voice of happiness. 

And busy tongues of little ones at play. 

Beauty and Youth with faces bright, illumed 

With love and hope, and Age with its sweet smile, 

In happiest intercourse assembled were. 

Others apart from those thus grouped about 

Sought to beguile in quicker pace away. 

The lingering hours of the hot summer's day 

With tales of Fancy's painting; some o'ercome 

By its soporous breath in slumber lay, 

While here and there one o'er the bulwarks leaned 

In listless dreamings, gazing o'er the wave. 

Aside were two: one Beauty's prototype 

Set in a frame of fairest loveliness; 

The other Beauty's proud defender — Youth 

From Nature's sturdier, bolder model, man. 

As silvery clouds in fleecy softness veil 

The chasteness of the virgin summer moon. 



SEA PICTURES. 6/ 

Here white attire, in sweet abandon, draped 
Her lovely form — in nameless grace composed, 
As she, reclined beside him whom she loved, 
Gave ear attent, as he read to her thought; 
Read of some sorrow, as expression told. 
Moulding her face to sweet solicitude — 
Of holy sympathy, throned in the heart. 
The superscription. So her lustrous eyes, — 
Liquidly brilliant as the glist'ning dew 
Upon the new-blown, trembling violet, — 
Pearled in warm tears, did each emotion glass. 
Which that sad tale awoke within her heart 
But this was passed, and like the sun's fresh glow 
Of heat and light when April showers are o'er. 
With a soft brightness beamed her tear-damped 

eyes, 
Resting on him who, ceased, in their sweet depths 
Poured from his own love's warm responsive rays. 
* * * * 

The scene was changed: upon a rock-bound coast 

I stood; darkness had gathered over all. 

'Gainst the dark sea high loomed the walling cliffs 

Amid the starlit air, their towering fronts 

Stern frowning, om'nous, warders of the deep, 

Robed in the sombre livery of Night. 

About their caverned base lamentingly 

The troubled waters tossed, 'neath the weird wind, 

Which to the night distressfully complained, 



68 SEA PICTURES. 

In wild and fitful voice. Higher it rose 

And 'neath it soon high swelled and fiercely lashed 

The surge in angry clamor 'gainst the cliffs, 

While black impenetrable clouds rolled o'er, 

Piled mass on mass, high 'mid the thickening air, 

And quickly curtained with their darkened folds 

The ebon vault of heaven, an hour before 

Whence countless stars looked down upon the sea. 

Far distant, from its cloud- built battlement, 

Rending night's pall, the wakened lightning pierced 

With gleaming shaft the bosom of the deep! 

Responsive to the Storm-king's awful voice, 

Deep-swelling from afar; then opened fast 

The many portals of the walling clouds. 

Piled up the vaulted height, to passage give 

The spirits of the tempest. Issuing forth. 

They, riding on the winds, did fiercely urge 

The elements to strife, most clamorous 

Where lightning-led they ranged the watery waste. 

Which, thus illumined, its waves dark, serpentine. 

Revealed, high surging in encounter wild, 

Like huge leviathans in fury met 

Fiercely contending. Now above the roar 

Of the loud sea the deepening thunder rose — 

And died away upon the wind. Anon 

From the dark zenith of the firmament. 

In louder voice its angry mutterings broke, 

And rolling downward burst into a crash! 

Then every cloud, in emulation fierce, 



SEA PICTURES. 69 

Thundered reply, rending the trembling air, 
As through the ambient darkness, inky grown, 
Each gave defiant challenge to the night. 
And hushed the mighty roaring of the sea. 
Flaming, the lightnings, red-tongued, lick the waves, 
Which heavenward madly reared their mammoth 

forms. 
Til], by the tempest struck, back hurled they plunged 
With roars defiant to their surging depths. 
Out on the sea, lit by the lightnings' glare, 
Flash ibllowing flash in v/ild velocity, 
A ship swept on before the tempest's strength. 
Rose with the maddened waves, sank as they sank. 
Then in the hadean darkness disappeared. 



The fulmines of the storm were spent, though still 
The forces of the wJnds swept to the cliffs. 
Resistless in their might, hurling the waves, 
To fury lashed, 'gainst tlieir black adamant, 
As if back summoned to their cavern strengths. 
Rebellious they in fierce resentment raged. 
The broken clouds now hurried o'er the sky. 
And laid their shattered masses 'neath the arch 
Which marks the southern limits of the heavens, 
Their serrate summits by the moon illumed, 
Which now released, in mellow brilliancy 
Flooded the waves, to very mountains grown. 



70 



SEA PICTURES. 



There, laboring o'er their heights, the doomed ship 

Rose, ma-stless, tottered on their giant crests. 

Then headlong plunged to their abyssmal depths. 

But rose not up again. — The waves rolled o'er 

Inexorable — 

•X- * * * * 

From my sleep I woke; 
Still murmuring, in the sunset lay the sea. 



5!.^^v-=r*-- 



OUAND MEME. 



Once more by the old window with the fragrant 

eglantine, 
As of old its sweetness breathing, — now o'ergrown 

with columbine, 
Three years this June we parted at this very sunset 

time: 
I scarce can realize that since I've been in many a 

clime, 
So natural the dear old scene, for though the years 

since gone 
Have shown me many beauteous scenes this held my 

heart alone. 
And that's the old-time abenlied, so loved, which 

now you play. 
Whose voice, like some sweet spirit, through the past 

has followed me 
In all my v/anderings, and when most alone 't was 

sure to come, 
And fill me with the deep longings for the then far 

distant home. 
Its sad, sweet strain recalls to me the chant of 

vesper bells 

(/I) 



72 QUAND MEME. 

Once heard upon the stillness from a cloister's 

wooded hills, 
As close along the Spanish coast one summer's eve 

we bore, 
When all was silent save the waves upon the neigh- 
boring shore. 
Now heard once more, here at your side, its ne'er 

forgotten strain 
Awakes sweet recollections, intermingling joy and 

pain — 
Throbbings of joy that sweetly thrill, by busy Mem- 
ory brought, 
Then sadly tremble into rest struck by the chill of 

thought, 
As fast on recollection comes each well remembered 

scene. 
Which now — sweet picture of the past! — but show 

what might have been; 
And these alone remain to me of all that happy 

time. 
In the heart's darkened chamber hung, draped in 

memoriam. 
There might have been no shadows, — if love may 

dare surmise 
From the old light which timidly has crept into your 

eyes; 
The same that kindled in my heart the flame love 

may inspire, 



QUAND MEME. ^3 

Which, like watch-lamps in holy fanes, proves but 

memorial fire. 
Ere since, when blinder than our hearts, we parted 

hastily 
In wounded pride, and I became a wanderer on the 

sea. 
You surely loved me, May, but then, ere wealth was 

mine — the prize 
I sought to gain the greater, — you feared the 

sacrifice, 
For you could not renounce for me what I could 

not supply: 
That luxury which you enjoyed and could not well 

deny 
Yourself. For this I question not: man has no 

right to ask 
Such sacrifice; we men who make of love too oft a 

mask. 
And though now fortune has removed that barrier 

aside. 
What matters it, since I have lost the only wealtn I 

pride. 

Your faithful heart remembers still for though you 

answer not. 
That tear now trembling on your cheek shows that 

the springs of thought 
Have been disturbed by memory, and thus o'erflow- 

ing rise, — 



74 QUAND MEME. 

And what a lovely channel have they chosen in your 

eyes. 
But take my arm and let us stroll along the old-time 

way, 
This will be the last meeting we may know for many 

a day, 
For I go from here to-morrow, I can scarcely tell 

you where, 
I do not know which way myself, in truth I little 

care 
But I dare not trust my heart to see another hold 

its shrine. 
Which love, denying every claim, e'en now would 

not resign. 

It was beside this gate I stood, three summers now 

ago, 
And heard you play that melody, which since I've 

cherished so, — 
The day I met you — then my love woke to its sweet 

refrain, 
And its harmony with silver chords wove round my 

heart a chain. 
Which though 'tis rent asunder recollection now 

displays 
Its scattered links, which still reflect the scenes of 

happier da)s; 
And with it came an image, then enshrined within 

my heart, 



QUAND MEME. 75 

Where it must ever rest undimmed till life therefrom 

- depart. 
But, May, farewell; I'll leave you now, we've parted 

often here, 
And this will make it easier for both of us to 

bear — 
Or shall I see you to the porch? — it may be wiser 

so. 
For your hand is trembling, — though perhaps 't is 

better finished now, 
And so good-bye; the agony which now my heart 

endures, 
I trust in all the after years may never once be 

yours. 



How like lone, sorrowing spirits, sigh the trees that 

shade the dead, 
Here in the quaint old church-yard, in summer's 

last tints clad, 
Where — five years passed, once more returned, I 

look out on the sea, 
From the cedared hill- side where she sleeps who 

was so dear to ms. 
The waves break sadly as I've heard them break in 

many a clime — 
Like memories which unceasing fall along the shores 

of time. 



76 QUAND MEME. 

And the droning bee hums idly by in the sultry 

August noon, 
Lingering to sip from weary flowers which 'neath 

the still heat swoon. 
White-winged a solitary ship far out upon the sea, 
Reflects the noon- day sunlight, soon o'erclouded, 

and to me 
This seems a fitting image of the lot I bear this 

day: 
Alone on life's broad ocean, and the sunlight passed 

away. 
And o'er its havenless expanse my bark of life must 

bear, 
O'ershadowed by those memories which must ever 

darken there. 

Thus hope's delusive star how oft in sorrow's night 

declines, 
And to dark disappointment's shades our happiness 

consigns; 
Yet can the image which av/oke that hope ne'er fade 

away — 
Embalmed in the heart's sepulchre, from "feeling's 

dull decay." 



SONNETS 



A NIGHT IN JUNE. 79 



A NIGHT IN JUNE. 



The deep blue firmament begemmed with light 
Bending o'er earth, like love o'er slumbering love; 
The spirit Peace ^ descending from above, 
Hushing all things to silence as the night 
Comes solemnly. Still as in gentlest flight 
The breath of unseen wings, soft zephyrs stray 
Among the sleeping flowers, and steal away 
Their hearts' perfumes. Amid the sparkling height 
The beetle drones, or falls the night-bird's cry 
While insect bands their minim notes attune 
On every side — 

Anon the orient sky 
Dissolves in light as the round, silver moon 
Sails up the blue in queenly majesty, 
The crowning glory of a night in June. 



8o INRI. 



INRI*. 



When on the cross hung man's high sacrifice, 
Death near approached his work to execute, 
Awe-struck recoiled, in fear irresolute 

His office on his King to exercise. 

Then bowing to his breast his head, the Christ 
Made sign to the Implacable, that he. 
Without regard to right of sovereignty, 

Should claim the sacrifice at which was priced 

Man's sin. Then did th' Inexorable strike — 
The fearful Sun to darkness paling fled; 
Earth trembling shrank to night's embrace, the 
dead 

E'en by that deed of their dread prince made quick 

Did him defy — he had forever spent 

His power in striking the Omnipotent! 



*From the French of an unknown author of the seventeenth century; con- 
tained in a little poem entitled "La Mort du Christ," which was found in- 
scribed upon the principal gate of the cemetery which formerly surrounded 
the Church of Sainte Trinite, in Cherbourg. 



MUSIC. 81 



MUSIC. 



Come, sacred Muse, naught like thy strains compose 
The longing heart, nor there can charm to rest 

Its discontent, yet oh, what peace it knows 

When by thy entrancing presence 't is possessed! 

E'en as a bird at the first dawn of day 

Sought by its mate, joins it and soars away 

Through sun-flushed fields of azure, circling round 

To some bright glade where cherished fruits abound, 

My soul solicitous, at thy behest. 

To thy loved realm enraptured wings its flight. 
Led on by thee there lingering with delight; 

Soaring aloft — or cradled into rest. 

All other joys the passions but control, 

'T is thou alone hath power to reach the soul! 



82 TO-MORROW. 



TO-MORROW. 



Farewell till flowers return. Ah, could we know 
The darkness of that said fore'er 't would seem 
Thus marked but as the shadow of a dream; 
A transitory cloud destined to show 
How full the light beyond. Lo now, though far 
To love, Time's darkened corridors between 
Its brightness falls, as though some dark aisle seen 
The light of day, and thitherto Hope's star 
Shall guide the steps of Faith. So e'en with joy 
May we regard such shadows which Time's flight 
Resolves to pillars of enduring light, 
Traced with sweet memories of fond constancy, 
Which ever in the after years shall prove 
The dearest of all records dear to love! 



SOLITUDE. 83 



SOLITUDE. 



Oh, I do love to wander by the shore 

And watch the restless waters of the deep, 
As the night winds across its bosom sweep, 

Blending their strange complainings with its roar! 

I love to wander through the shadowy wood 
As, phantom-like, the soft moonlight there creeps. 
Where, 'neath the sentrying stars, tired Nature 
sleeps 

And Silence sits enthroned in Solitude! 

Such scenes a deep, mysterious pleasure bear. 
And wake a prescient spirit in the breast, 
Timid of day, which from a vague unrest 

Finds glad relief raptly communing there 

With spirit voices from far spheres which tell 

Of distant worlds, to sense invisible! 



84 MEDITATION, 



MEDITATION. 



In that still hour when the declining day 
Along the sky fades tranquilly away, 

When o'er the earth the glimmering twilight creeps, 
All voices hushing as dear Nature sleeps. 

In solitude, naught save the symphony 

Of ocean heard, I love to seek thy charms. 
Where naught ignoble the glad soul alarms. 

As rapturously it yields itself to thee. 

Silent thou art, thy silence eloquence. 
Raising the soul to its inherent life. 

Which, casting off its mortal instruments, 

Soars far beyond earth's narrow scene of strife. 

And, led by thee, views that immortal state 

In which it too shall soon participate! 



VENICE. 85 



VENICE. 



How doth thy name conjure th' historic past, 
Queen of the Isles; once of the East supreme! 
How to thy courts the proudest Nations came 

And at thy feet their richest tribute cast. 

Most valiant then thy sons, and thy domains 
Far-reaching as the waves thy galleons cleft; 
Then Venice Victrixl Now apart, bereft; 

Of all thy greatness but a name remains! 

Thy galleons gone — thy banners sadly furled; 
Still, bride of Ocean, though as queen discrowned, 
'Neath bluest heavens, 'mid beryl seas thou'rt 
throned, 

Unique among the marvels of the world! 
Thy glory marked, forever now resigned. 
Tears dim the eyes and wonder fills the mind. 



STANZAS 



LOVE AND DIGNITY. 89 



LOVE AND DIGNITY. 



It was June; in a vale, as the day was declining, 
Near a lakelet rose-hued by the soft, waning 
light, 
Stately Dignity walked, in the silence resigning 
His thought to those scenes which most gladdened 
his sight. 



Not far had he gone when he heard a deep 
sighing 

Which came from a cluster of roses near by, 
And great his surprise when among them espying 

The little god Cupid, — who'd uttered the sigh. 



On his arm he reclined, with a rose in his fingers. 
From which he was plucking its petals away. 

And as a bright star on a cloud's summit lingers, 
A tremulous tear on his dark lashes lay. 



go LOVE AND DIGNITY. 

"And what has disturbed you?" asked Dignity, 
kindly. 

Cupid started, and fluttered his wings in dismay, 
But feared, in the presence he found himself, blindly 

To follow his feelings and scamper away. 



He made no reply; simply pointed before him 
Where an arrow lay broken, — the source of his 
woe, 
As he bit those sweet lips for which mankind adore 
him, 
And patted his bare little leg with his bow! 

" Indeed, and is that it? Just as I expected; 

'T would seem you've not done as instructed " — 
"'T is true,"— 
" Precisely, now had you done as I directed " — 
*'You would say I'd not had this misfortune to 
rue." 



"This once," Love continued, ''good Dignity spare 
me," 
Looking up in his face with a coy, suasive smile, 
"And come here to-morrow at this hour, and hear me 
Recount my success with proud Beauty mean- 
while." 



LOVE AND DIGNITY. 9 1 

" Most gladly I will, so good-night, but remember!" 
" Never fear," Love replied, with glance roguishly 
bright, 
Then with wing-s rustling softly, as leaves 'neath a 
zephyr, 
He rose on a sunbeam and passed out of sight. 



Next eve to the vale, ere the sun had ceased shining. 
Came Dignity, — 't was one he long had loved 
best, — 

And there, on a bed of rich blossoms reclining, 
He beheld Beauty fondling a rose at her breast. 



Quick, with rapturing pulsation, his heart beat, but 
hearing 
A sound as of Love's half-suppressed voice near 

by, 

He concealed his emotion, then to her appearing. 
He approached, as upon him she smiled gra- 
ciously. 

Love had led her hither, and now near her hiding, 
'Mid the blossom-flaked foliage, as Dignity came 

He sped a bright arrow, fire-tipped, which dividing 
His heart, kindled there its wild, exquisite flame! 



92 LOVE AND DIGNITY. 

Thus struck, before Beauty he fell, to her pleaded 
To draw from his bosom the still flaming dart; 

She, while soothing the wound, saw but Love e'er 
could heal it, 
The arrow was buried so deep in his heart! 



Then in flight Cupid cried, " Dignity, I regret to 
Have missed you, as now I've no time to wait, for 

My quiver is empty. I did not forget you. 

You see. Now I'm off for a few arrows more!" 

Soon though passed out of sight, in soft, dulcet 
numbers 
His voice lingered still, urging his sweet decree, 
While the flowers his warm wings had kissed from 
their slumbers, 
On the lingering sunbeams shed their sweets 
wantonly! 

Soon 't was clear from the manner of Beauty in 
pressing 
Her hand 'gainst her heart, quickly palpitating, 
Love had there sent an arrow, — the rogue when 
professing 
His quiver unstocked, had his darts 'neath his 
wing. 



THE GLADIATOR. 93 



THE GLADIATOR. 



The following lines are a free translation from the French of 
Chenedolle (i 769-1833), and are presented as of interest 
by reason of being substantially identical, as will at once 
be observed, with those so universally known and justly ad. 
mired of Lord Byron on the same subject, occurring in 
"Childe Harold." Unfortunately for his French contem- 
porary, it has been incontestibly established that "our 
author " spoke first by two years. 



Spurned, bleeding; victim of a barbarous lust — 
Imperial Rome'sl the gladiator falls 
On the arena homicidal, there 

In calm repose yielding himself to death. 

Low drooped upon his arm, within his heart 
He concentrates his residue of strength; 
Consents to deaths yet co?iquers agony, "^ 

While dauntless still he braves the Roman foe. 



*"I1 consent a la mort, domptant ragonie." 



94 THE GLADIATOR. 

Fast fails his strength, and lower sinks his head; 
He feels his life depart. The drops of blood 
Which he beholds calmly and fearless fall, 

From his torn side more slowly now descend. 

Far from this scene of horror are his thoughts. 
To his loved home alone they fondly turn, 
Where 'neath his roof, beside the Danube's shore 

Affection sees his darling infant ones. 

Them by their mother's knee he there beholds, 

While in a spectacle inhuman he 

Expiring lies, before an alien race, 
Butchered to amuse the Roman populace! 

Now o'er his face death's pallid hue is spread; 
He dies, yet ne'er surrendering once to fear, 
While with disdain the shouts prolonged he hears 

That hail the victor — guilty of his blood! 

Oh, bloody deed! — dare man thus outrage man? 

Rise ye, ye fierce barbarians of the north! 

Speed to revenge your sons' ignoble death; 
Quick, lest Rome still finds pleasure in your blood! 



HIS REPLY. 95 



HIS REPLY 

TO ''HER LETTER. 



I was resting beneath the old pine tree, 
But an hour from the mines — tired out — 
Alone — worse than that, which is lonely, 
Thinking how strangely things come about, 
When your letter — your womanly letter 
Was placed in my hand — need I say 
That its face (for I knew 'twas from you, dear), 
Smiled away the fatigue of the day. 



You may guess how I read and reread it 

And dwelt on each v/ord: well I knew 

Ere 'twas opened no words but those truest 

Would be found in a letter from you — 

And reading you seemed to be with me 

Once more and your heart's truth divine. 

Which e'er beamed in your eyes when beside you, 

Shone forth in your words line by line. 



96 HIS REPLY. 

To be sure 'twas amusing to see you 
Write so freely of such brilliant scenes — 
Of Beaux — and in sooth a proposal 
From a youngster just out of his teens — 
All of which pleased me more than you fancy, 
— The dances, soirees, and all that — 
That is, since " the belle of the season " 
From it all turned to "Poverty flat." 



Then the drive in the park, in a turnout 

Like that of a princess in state — 

Yet you still think our drive was " the rarest " 

From old Harrison's barn to the gate? 

Well, you're not very wrong — and I'm thinking 

That in ''rarest " you have the right word 

For the reason — if rightly I guess it, 

That our hearts were in rarest accord. 



Yes, our happiness here was complete, Su', 
Or seemed so, and that's all the same, 
Till the metal was struck in the placer. 
And the gold fairly rolled from the claim; 
Then of course there was nothing to keep you 
Out here in the mud at the " Fork," 
So the grocery was sold and the "diggin's " 
Were exchanged for the scenes of New-York. 



HIS REPLY. 97 

Two years since have passed — all continues 

Pretty much as when last you were here — 

Some have "struck it," but most are still striving 

With little to eat or to wear, 

Much less finding gold, or, perhaps, only 

Enough to give prospect of more — 

But most have but little to hope for. 

And just strive to keep want from the door. 

And who, do you ask, are the finders; 

And how rich are the new paying leads? 

Well some who began in the ditches 

And sdme v/ho began at \\i^ feeds; 

And some of our five — you remember 

From Hampshire, at last are repaid; 

You recall how three years past they came here 

Recruits for " the digger brigade!" 



There's old Dobson: you know his last penny 
Was gone when you left — well, they say 
His share in the Davenport placer 
Is worth twenty thousand to-day — 
" Clean money? " O, no — twenty thousand 
Every month it holds out — you may guess 
How the girls have dropped cotton and gingham 
And taken to silks for their dress. 



98 HIS REPLY. 

And then, I had almost forgotten (?) 
Another rich strike has been made 
Where the gold merely has to be lifted 
Without labor of pick or of spade: 
Two months past 'twas struck up the mountains- 
Two years since the *' digger " began; 
The result? Some few thousands to credit, — 
Can't you guess who's the fortunate man? 



Do you know him? — well, let me remember — 
Why, certain you do — don't you know 
"That unlucky digger" named Danvers — 
Joseph Danvers — more commonly Joe? 
That's me, Su', — what, don't you believe it? 
No wonder — I didn't myself 
Till I knew the North Bank to my credit 
Held a round fifty thousand of pelf. 



Yes, fifty and further take notice 
That I've sold out the claim as it stands 
For five hundred thousand gold, minted, 
And the checks have passed under my hands- 
Ah, my Beauty, how little you fancied 
In the midst of your fashion and glare 
That the man whom you loved as a " digger " 
Was that unlucky Joe — millionaire! 



HIS REPLY. 99 

What next? 

— In two weeks I reach Denver, 
And forever good-bye to " the Fork:" 
And thence fast as wheels can whirl eastward 
I'll be with you, dear, in New York, 
And then we'll be finished by travel 
And learn what it means, and all that. 
And our joy shall be none the less telling 
For the memories of *' Poverty flat." 

So good night and good-bye for a little, 

Altho' you're asleep as I write. 

For ten on this slope, if I err not, 

In your quarter is three in the night — 

Yet once more good night and be happy 

Henceforth and forever and know 

There is one who will strive so to make you, 

Joseph Danvers — more commonly 

JOE. 



100 THE EARLY BIRD. 



THE EARLY WORM, 

OF UNHAPPY MEMORY. 



I. 

Oft hath been told the ancient tale 

Yclept " the early bird," 
But with great naughtiness the truth 

Hath been but half averred. 

II. 

Once on a time a little worm, — 
Thus should the story run, — 

Arose with unsuspecting trust 
To greet the rising sun. 

III. 

Forth from his snug retreat he set 
Hard by a moss-grown wood; 

And whistled gaily as he went — 
Or would have if he could. 



THE EARLY BIRD. lOI 



IV. 



He gained the mead and soon upon 

A hollow log he gat, 
Which well he knew for oft thereon 

In the warm sun he sat 

V. 

And slept, curled in a little ball, 

For be it known that he 
Was not a common worm, but of 

The old Grub famil^^. 

VI. 

Full pleased was he with his own self 

And as the sun arose, 
He felt like juveniles who feel 

Too big for their small clo''es. 

VII. 

But soon into his ear there crept 
A bird's sweet minstrelsy, 

Which pleased him so that he fell to 
And danced right merrily. 

VIII. 

Alack the day! The warbler spied 

The all too giddy mite. 
And while he loved to trill full well 

A worm was his delight! 



I02 THE EARLY BIRD. 

IX. 

He dropped his song, the better on 
His helpless prey to drop; 

Then, though his victim strove to fly, 
He popped him in his crop! 

X. 

Thus it befell; that hapless worm, 
So good, so prompt at morn 

Was by his very virtues thus 
From life and pleasure torn. 

XL 

Yet but himself to blame, for if 
He had but kept his bed 

To rise betimes, some other worm 
Would have been swallow-^^/ 



NIGHT. 103 



NIGHT. 



Thou orb sublime that from the boundless sky- 
Night's darkening curtain now dost upward roll ! 

And flood'st the world in balmful brilliancy 

That steals like dream-hushed music on the soul, 

From this still height, amid the breathless grove, 
Whereon thou dost thy first soft brightness shed, 

I watch thee rise with an adoring love, 
Thou queen of light in majesty arrayed! 

Above yon looming cliff, whose sombre height. 
Black 'gainst the sky, o'erlooksthe slumbering sea, 

Thou soar'st aloft, dissolving into light 
The waters, cradled to tranquility. 



Mounting on high now doth thy radiance fill 
The earth and sea — most welcome on the deep 

Where thy bright beams with hope all wanderers 
thrill 
Who in the night across the ocean sweep. 



104 NIGHT. 

Yonder the distant city sleeps, revealed by thee, 
As thou dost silver dome and spire there: 

Whence now, scarce heard above the murmuring sea, 
The midnight bell steals o'er the slumbering air. 

As thy full beams disperse night's gathered gloom 
'Mid its dark scenes, what haunts of misery there; 

What drear abodes of anguish they illume, 
Sunk in the rayless midnight of despair! 

What thoughts disturb the lonely convict's heart 
As now he views thee from his ironed cell. 

Of childhood's days; of cherished hopes depart, 
Which he remembers — ah, too sadly well. 

He feels thy beams, as now his night they invade, 
Rest on a scene which memory weeps to trace: 

A grave amid the village church-yard's shade. 
Of her who sank beneath a child's disgrace. 

Thus, what diversity of scene untold 

Dost thou behold; what mighty empires sway 

Hast seen, as through long ages thou hast rolled. 
As now thou roll'st unchanged — yet where are 
they? 



NIGHT. 105 

Where now is haughty Babylonia's might 
Which madly dared Omnipotence deride? 
For thou hast too illumed her guilty site 
As now the plain which sepulchres her pride! 

So shall thy beams, before another sun, 
Look on the walls of crumbling Pompeii, 
And from the heights of silent Lebanon 
Flood the still waves of holy Galilee. 



Infinite theme! Thou God all-powerful, 

Whose hand directs e'en as Thy hand hath ma(]e 

The Universe stupendous! who may tell 

The countless wonders of Thy work displayed. 



I06 UNKNOWN SOLDIER. 



UNKNOWN SOLDIER. 



Ye patriot dead! o'er your sleep of devotion 

Beams the proud star of victory, all gloriously 
bright! 
Here by the dark stream, winding down to the ocean 
Which beheld you go forth in the pride of your 
might. 

Full its radiance illumines the shades which enfold 

you, 
Reflecting your glory — which brightens its ray, — 
In the hearts which forever with pride shall behold 

you, 
Through ages to come as through years passed 

away. 

And can it then be that " unknown " ye are sleeping 
By the fields of your valor, so fearlessly trod ? 

Can a Nation forget that the fruits she is reaping 
Are sprung from the soil warmed to life by thy 
blood ? 



UNKNOWN SOLDIER. ID/ 

Ye are known : by the hearts which — sorrow e*er at- 
tending — 
Your memory embalm in love's holiest perfumes ; 
By the tears of a Nation which o'er you descending 
Refresh the sweet flowers that wave o'er your 
tombs. 



Thus not here, where the bleak winds in rude lamen- 
tation 
Complainingly wander among the sad pine, 
Are you tombed, but your graves the warm hearts of 
a Nation, 
Where evergreen blooming, love's memories twine. 

No more shall the thunders of battle elate you ; 

No more shall the trumpet of victory thrill — 
Till the last trumpet's sound, which forever shall 
wake you. 

When known ye shall rise to the life immortal. 



:o8 ON THE SANDS. 



ON THE SANDS. 



A proud ship northward sailing, 
Across a shadowed sea, — 
As lonely as love forbidden 
The haven where it would be. 

On the sands two forms are lingering ; 
'Gainst the rock of their destiny, 
The tides of their hearts are swelling 
Like the waves of a troubled sea. 



For a gulf has been fixed between them, 
By the changeless decree of Fate : 
After long years of waiting, 
Found — but, alas, too late. 

Yet ne'er shall those tides of feeling 
Rest till each heart be at peace, 
As not till Time's consummation, 
Shall the tides of ocean cease. 



ON THE SANDS. lOQ 

For they roll from Truth's vast ocean 
That infinite, changeless sea, 
And the power that directs their pulses 
Is immutable Deity. 

Oh life! O fate! O sorrow! 
Must love's true currents flow 
Side by side, like companion rivers 
That never a mingling know? 

Then a voice, blent with ocean's, answers: — 
Not here 'neath earth's changeful skies 
Can love be made perfect, — but yonder 
In the field's of paradise. 



no TO A CANARY. 



TO A CANARY. 



Who fashioned thy exquisite symmetry, 
Thou little fay of song, thou paragon 

Of grace; what wondrous cunning artisan 
The texture wove of thy bright livery ? 



What hand the delicate machinery cast 

Whereby thou mov'st with such unerring skill ? 

Who in thy tiny frame the forces placed, 
Which make it all-obedient to thy will ? 

What hast thou in that little throat of thine 
To trill such notes of dulcet purity ? 

Who taught thee thus in minstrelsy divine 
To pour thy soul in rhythmic ecstacy ? 



Perchance it was in thine own native shades, 
The purling brook, the voices of the woods, 

Where now thy fellows in bright flow'ry glades, 
Fill with sweet song their island solitudes. 



TO A CANARY. Ill 

But these t/iou ne'er hast known; then 't was thy sire 
Tuned thy sweet voice ? Nay, loud thy warblings 
tell, 

In praises rising softly, sweetly higher, 

'Twas nature's God that fashioned thee so well ! 

Would I could tell thee how I love thy song; 

How dear to me, thou lovely one, thou art. 
Why fly'st thou from me ? I but fondly long 

With kindliest hand to lay thee to my heart. 

How happily would'st thou lie upon this breast, 
Did'st thou but know how warms my heart to thee; 

Now, captive there, in thy sweet eyes' unrest. 
Pained I behold thou fain would'st fly from me. 

Thou can'st not understand my words, I know. 
But love hath many voices, and for thee 

Nature hath surely purposed one, and so 
I am content, for Time will teach it me. 



112 MONA- 



MONA. 



How can I paint thy beauties; how relate 

Thy virtues ? words to compass them so fail 
Thy graces — e'en the cadence of thy feet, 

Make affluent Speech a poverty reveal, 
Language too poor to justly celebrate 

The temple of thy form ; the grace to tell 
Of its fair priestess, matchless ! Sight alone 

Can know how perfect Beauty's paragon! 



It may not be that peerless music's strain 

More richly sounds since I have known thy love ; 
It may not be fair Dian with her train 

Of stars refulgent, in her course above 
Now brighter beams; yet music's loved refrain 

Far sweeter is ; yon orbs — all things now prove 
Sources of joy undreamt, and to life yield 

Rich springs of sweetness ne'er before revealed. 



MONA. 113 

E'en as the sun with its resplendent light 

Doth flood the world in nameless radiancy; 
Raising all sunk in darkness by the night 

To share the glory of his majesty, 
So shall thy love impart a new delight 

To every joy, and life's ambitions be 
Exalted to a nobler aim, and yet — 

Nay, thy sweet eyes rebuke that thought— -/cfrgeL^ 

'Mid their soft depths, dark as the star-filled skies, 

As 'mid the night heat's silent lightnings play 
In quivering v/armth, love's flames reflected rise 

From the altar thy heart hath built to me. 
And there shall love with gladness sacrifice 

This self it hath bound captive, for to thee 
Who has enthroned love's image in my breast, 

'Twould consecrate the life thou thus hast blest ! 

As 't were from sleep thou'st v/aked me ; changed to 
day 

The darkness of the past, — appearing now 
How dark ! And thence emerged all wondrously 

This new-found world breaks glorious on the view, 
And circling all — as doth the earth the sky! 

Love doth encompass this creation new, 
Of which thou art the Queen, a soverignty 

In which thou'st crowned me Consort unto thee ! 



114 A THOUGHT. 



A THOUGHT. 



1 watched a rose at evening fade away, 
As leaf by leaf its crimson richness fell, 

And sadly gazing thought, may thus decay 
Such beauty claim, thence irredeemable? 

I sought in vain the multitudinous dew, 
An hour before glitt'ring in bright array 

Along the sward, nor aught was left to show 

What glory thence had passed from earth away! 

The spirit of the flower, the soul, methought. 
Of fire in the dew, thus fled, must pass 

To some bright realm, and straight my fancy sought 
To place the sphere worthy such loveliness. 

To Phosphor floating in her sea of light — 
An isle of glory; to th' enchanted sphere 

Arched by the iris; to each star its flight 
Did Fancy wing — successless voyager. 



A THOUGHT. II5 

I stood amid a scene of brilliant joy, 

Where Beauty moved, in Music's sweet embrace, 
Shedding on all a nameless radiancy 

From the divine effulgence of her face! 

Then Love exultant cried: "That fit repose 
By Fancy sought, e'en here all glorious view: 

In Beauty's cheek immortal blooms the rose; 
In Beauty's eyes the fires born in the dew!" 



^=^^^-^=^ 



Il6 MUSIC AND MEMORY. 



MUSIC AND MEMORY, 



Music once wandering through the heart, 

As dayhght died away, 
Found Memory sleeping by a tomb 

Whose verdure withering lay. 

Whispering she touched the slumberer, 

Soft as the moon's pale beam 
The folded flower, then passed away 

As vanishes a dream. 

Memory awoke and caught the voice 

Re-echoing plaintively. 
Then, weeping, viewed where she had slept, 

And oh, how bitterly! 

But balmful were the tears thus shed. 
And the flowers which there drooped lay 

Beneath their sweet refreshment bloomed 
And beautified decay. 



MUSIC AND MEMORY. 



117 



And now, no greener spot is there 
For Memory loves to twine 

The richest verdure of the heart 
Around that sacred shrine. 



^=^-'^-^=^ 



Il8 THE DAKOTA. 



THE DAKOTA. 

A FRAGMENT. 



I. 

Far 'neath the crimson west, all sear and brown, 

Range the dark hills of the Dakota land, 
By arid plains; yet farther, looking down 

On pine-gloomed wilds, where waters darkly grand 
Leap their rock-walls. There wide the wind-drift 
sand, 

The ashen alkali, stretches a-plain. 
O'er which, else shadeless, sun-scorched sparsely 
stand 

The lonely cotton-woods: and as a-main 
Ships' sailless masts, becalmed, 'neath burning skies, 
From 'far appear, their slender heights arise. 

II. 

There in primitive lodges of the plain. 
Dwelt the Dakota tribes confederate. 

The land possessing 'twixt the rock-forged chain 
Of mountains westward and the river great, 

" Father of waters ' ' named, which through the gate 



THE DAKOTA. II9 

Of Delta rolls into the southern sea. 
Foremost in war, with courage desperate, 

Of all the mightiest braves most dreaded they, 
Till in defence 'gainst them combined arose 
Tribes which else held themselves deadliest of foes! 

III. 

For countless years, free as the winged wind, 

And scarce less fleet; more fierce and deadlier far. 
O'er plain and through deep forests, rock-confined 

To dauntless strength most loved, the Savage there 
Ranged chieftain of the wilds. Alike the lair 

Of mountain beast and eagles' eyried bed, 
Far up the crag, 't was but his joy to dare; 

And oft the grizzly monster crouched in dread 
Of such a foe, till desperate driven at length 
Employed, how vainly, its else matchless strength! 

IV. 

Swift, not less sure, the barbed arrow flew 

From his sprung bow, drawn 'neath a strength like 
that 
Which in the storm the stoutest sapling, low 
Bends earthward; in the fated life to wet 
Its lightning shaft, with feathery rudders set. 

Plucked from the wing which soaring high it 
brought 



I20 THE DAKOTA. 

Lifeless to lay low at its master's feet — 

His gladdest triumph save when true it sought 
The hostile's breast, to yield him that e'er still 
The proudest trophy of a warrior's skill! 



In verdured plains, walled by the mountain height, 

Beside the running waters was his home, 
Where rose, scarce fewer than a countless flight 

Of winged- ones north-bound when the spring has 
come. 
The painted tepees of his tribe. Close some 

Stood 'neath the mount; some by the river's sands, 
Where, tethered, danced in the in-eddying foam 

The swift canoes, — some staunch for war's de- 
mands; 
Some of a grace, with odorous cedar wings, 
But fitted for love's happy wanderings. 



VI. 



And oft it was when the last beams of day 

Bathed stream and woodland in their soft rose- 
hue. 

As the bright moon, with love-inspiring ray. 
Floated, all beauteous, up the orient blue, 

Out from the shore glided the light canoe 



THE DAKOTA. 121 

Bearing the love-led warrior, proudly plumed, 
And Indian maid, clad in the softest doe, 

Feathered and fringed, her olive breast illumed 
With rustic gems, his gift, by daring brought 
From nature's stores, o'er ways with dangers fraught. 

VII. 

Now when the vernal tide its riches spread 

O'er the north pampas, and the bison came. 
In bands forth issuing, fleetly mounted, sped 

The younger braves to take the pasturing game. 
Armed with the bow and spear, each eye a-gleam. 

Looking impatient courage, crested high 
With eagle plumes stained to a crimson flame. 

Shouting exultant, 'gainst the evening sky 
O'er the west hills they dashed and far away. 
To strike the feeding herds ere dawn of day. 

VIII. 

On their fleet coursers of the wild astride 

At morn — kept by the single, scarce touched rein. 

Now half unhorsed — o'er-leaning low aside, 

Quick straight a-mount, alike they swept the plain. 

As now they charged the flying herd, which ta'en 
Surprised, by cunning artifice, swift fled 

A surging mass, — the blackened, trembling plain 



122 THE DAKOTA. 

And rolling prairie thundering 'neath their tread, 
Till it did seem like some dark inland sea 
Wrought from beneath to tumult suddenly! 

IX. 

Children of Nature, bounteous she supplied 

Their wants, nor wished they aught she gave them 
not, — 
The stretching plains their country, and the wide 

Skies circling the sole bound their science taught, 
Swift retribution e'er the guilty sought, 

And justice dealt — their law the law of heaven, 
Through ages past to them tradition brought, 

By the Great Spirit to their fathers given; 
Confirmed to them whene'er in thunders loud 
His voice they heard from 'midst the flame-rent 
cloud! 



UNDERLEY. 123 



UNDERLEY. 



Fair hills and dales in summer's wealth arrayed, 
On every side adorned with richest shade; 
Along the vale, o'er pebbles white and gray, 
The river babbling on its winding way 
By cliff and woodland, and 'neath arches seared. 
Which Roman skill to outlive centuries reared, 
And to the distant sea still circling on. 
Crooning its story of long ages gone. 

Upsloping from the marge to park and grange. 
Rare pastures where the lowing beauties range 
With fleece-white herds which o'er the greenswards 

rove, 
Or clustering, drowse within the leafy grove. 

A garden set in graceful, terraced frames, 
Whose every line the hand of Art proclaims, 
Where countless flowers blossom everywhere. 
And breathe their fragrance on the slumbrous air. 



124 UNDERLEY. 

Alone, and grouped, old trees of stately mien, 
And, fringed with colour, copses softly green — 
The haunts of birds, which with the quiet breeze 
Blend their soft notes in dulcet harmonies. 



Embowered in the midst, a stately home: 
Grey tower and turret rising o'er the land. 

Lined by the circling years as they have come 
And passed away — albeit with gentlest hand. 

Ideal scenes where Nature, Art delight 
To soothe the soul — to charm the lingering sight: 
In memory's shrine, where all most loved is laid. 
Fixing a picture which can never fade. 

Such is the prospect I have found in thee; 
Such is thy beauty, noble Underley. 



BARCAROLLE. 12$ 



BARCAROLLE, 



All merrily 
O'er the billows free 
Our light boat swiftly glides, 

And the mellow light 

Of the starry night 
Our course o'er the water guides. 

With thoughts as free 

As the rolling sea, 
0*er the tossing waves we bound, 

While in the deep, 

As we onward sweep. 
Our oars fall with musical sound! 

Chorus. 

Then row with a will, with a will, boys. 

And sing as we go with a will, boys ! 

Our strength to the oar, speeding far from the shore, 

O'er the sea we love as we e'er will, boys. 

The winds we brave. 
While the bounding wave 
Obedient to our will, 



126 BARCAROLLE. 

Like a mettled steed 
From its curbings freed, 

Bears us onward — onward still ! 
The waves may dash, 
The lightnings flash. 

And the winds oppose our course — 
These our joy to dare. 
Their wild sport to share, 

As we mingle our voices with theirs ! 

Chorus. 



Now the moon above 

Waking thoughts of love, 
Fills the scene with her dreamy light. 

As within the bay, — 

Passed the open sea, — 
We glide o'er the wavelets bright. 

And a steady oar 

Speeds us to the shore, 
While our hearts' warmest pulses move, 

For we know that there 

Wait us faces dear. 
Whose smiles are the guerdon of love. 



Chorus. 



SONG 127 



SONG. 



A sky of purest sapphire, 

A shore of silver sand; 

The constant ocean whispering 

Its love unto the land. 

A sail all solitary 

Drifting across the sea, 

As hearts drift on in silence, 

Unknown their destiny. 



Refrain. 

Beauteous, ah beauteous, earth and sea and air, 
Yet joy my spirit finds not anywhere; 
Patience, O, faithful heart, e'en as day follows night 
And darkness is resolved to beams of radiant light. 

So shall the shadows pass 

And joy replace the sorrow. 

Patiently — hopefully. 

So shall gladness come to thee. 



128 SONG. 



11. 



In vision-land I linger, 

Hope's dream is pictured there; 

I call: no voice in answer; 

I wake and all is drear — 

When shall the shadows vanish 

And life be at its best; 

When shall the heart's fond longings 

In joy's completeness rest ? 

Refrain, 



.^=^^^-^t=^ 



i 



A REMEMBRANCE. 1 29 



A REMEMBRANCE. 



I Stood alone on the pebbled beach 
As the moon rose over the sea, 

And the doleful break of the restless waves, 
Brought sad memories to me. 

Across her silvery path o'er the wave 

A ship passed into the night; 
Though it glided by ere I'd viewed it well, 

I can never forget that sight. 

E'en thus, I thought, on life's path appear 

Sweet faces a moment seen, 
Then lost to us: a grave in the heart 

Which memory keeps ever green. 



130 I LOVE TO LOOK INTO THINE EYES. 



I Love to Look Into Thine Eyes. 



I love to look into thine eyes, 
Thy soul's bright mirrors, where 

Its crystal depths reflect-ed beam — 
Glancing in beauty there ! 

I love to look into thine eyes, 

Sweet springs which, sparkling o'er 

Life's arid plain, refreshment yield 
Else never known before. 

I love to look into thine eyes 
Where virtues mirrored are; 

Virtues which Modesty would hide 
By Truth revealed there. 



LINES IN AN ALBUM. 131 



LINES IN AN ALBUM. 



Spotless this page where now my verse I place; 
E'en thus the record of thy young life is. 
Would that as here friendship I fondly trace 
I there might grave enduring happiness. 



The Same 

As when beneath the church-yard's quiet shade 
We wander musing at the close of day, 
And mark the sadd'ning records telling there 
Of fondest friendships which have passed away; 
So in life's evening when thine eyes shall stray 
Amid these pages, to thy memory dear. 
Pass not this leaf — in friendship's sacred name 
Fondly I now inscribe " remembrance " here. 



32 LINES IN AN ALBUM. 

The Same 

Goodness is thy beauty's dower 
Unobtrusive as the flower 

Shadowed in the lea; 
Silvery as the brooklet's trebles 
Flowing o'er enamelled pebbles 

Sounds thy voice to me. 



The Same. 

My autograph you ask ? Behold 
Upon this page I gladly write it. 
May smiles alone attend the lips 
At whose command I now indite it. 



LINES 



Written in the fly leaf of a book presented to Dr. on his 

return to his home in Bermuda. 

With this adieu — alas that jealous Fate 
Should ever thus fond friendship separate! 
Mayst thou and thine by joy e'er compassed be 
As are thine isles by their glad, sunlit sea. 



LINES. 133 



TO 



In her high temple Memory shall enshrine, 
As love hath in the temple of the heart, — 
Thy image 'neath that of the Muse divine, 
Whose votary and favored child thou art. 



LINES. 



If o'er each worthier birth some proud star shines, 

Importing favors for its foster-child, 
By genius dowered or gifted from the shrines 

Which hold the wealth of Virtue's sacred guild, 

Surely o'er thine in whom combined appear 
Genius and virtues which might more adorn. 

In happiest conjunction many a star 
Propitious beamed, blessing the natal-morn. 



34 LOVE IN ABSENCE. 



LOVE IN ABSENCE. 



" En el amor la auscencia es como el aire, que apaga el 
fuego chico, e enciende el grande." 

— Spanish Proverb. 



A little fire 

Must soon expire 
'Neath the wind's agitation, 

Whereas the same 

A greater flame 
Swells to a conflagration! 

E'en so to love 
Doth absence prove: 

A little fire o'er-turning, 
But when the breast 
Love's flames invest, 

It sets them wildly burning. 



SONG. 135 



SONG. 



There's some one with the brightest eyes 

That ever love betrayed; 
There's some one with the sweetest smile 

That beauty e'er displayed, 
Whose image, wheresoe'er I be, 

Love ever brings to view. 
And who that some one is, fairest, 

I scarce need name to you. 

There is an anxious heart that knows 

A rapture it conceals. 
And longing waits the hour to speak 

The fullness which it feels. 
Its joy alone beneath that smile, 

'Neath those sweet eyes of blue. 
And in whose breast it beats, sweet one, 

Oh, need I name to you? 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 



Notwithstanding the marvelous perfection to which 
music has beeen brought in all its branches, and 
the very exhaustive treatises which have been writ- 
ten on the theories of the art, not to speak of the 
wonderful mastery which has been obtained over its 
technical difficulties, psychologically considered, the 
subject does not appear to have received an equal 
degree of attention other than in works too volumi- 
nous, if not too abstruse, for general reading. Our 
purpose in this paper will be to inquire briefly into 
the processes of the several factors in music as 
relates to their effect upon the listener; and if we can 
succeed in throwing some light on the subject for 
"the great majority," we shall not have labored in 
vain, even though we fail to "extend the horizon " 
of the more knowing few. 

In undertaking to offer an answer to the question, 
"How does music act upon its auditor to impart 
that pleasure which it so universally affords ? " it is 

(•39) 



I40 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 

important to have in mind two facts. First, that 
this pleasure, in its aggregate, is a complex emotion, 
comprising many simple emotions, v/hich latter, it 
may be suggested, consist of still other more subtle 
refinements of feeling. Thus our inquiry must be in- 
to the nature of those primary factors in music and 
their processes which give rise to the individual 
emotions ; and if we can trace out these, we shall 
have gone far toward reaching an understanding of 
the subject presented. The second fact is that the 
high distinguishing power of creative minds, in the 
arts in general, is that faculty which enables them 
to go beyond personal experiences and to compre- 
hend the whole range of human emotions (of which 
we have the highest example in the art of Shakes- 
peare), which faculty, as need scarcely be suggested, 
is the god-like attribute of genius. 

As all understand, among the arts, music takes a 
high place as an exponent of the emotions, which in- 
deed was its primitive, as it has ever been its chief 
mission ; its first crude forms having been no more 
than the spontaneous utterance of human feeling. 

And just here let us direct attention to the identi- 
ty and consequent immediate relation which exists 
between the inherent properties of music and those 
of emotion, which need only to be mentioned to be 
at once recognized, — pointed out by Dr. Haweis, 
in his able book, " Music and Morals." 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 141 

These properties, both in music and emotion, 
have been identified as velocity, intensity, complex- 
ity, elation and depression, which in the respective 
cases may be approximated as follows : 

IN MUSIC. 

Velocity by the several tempi employed, as vari- 
ous as are numerous the degrees in the range in- 
cluded within the terms largo zxidi pi'estissimo. 

Intensity by the infinitely minute gradations pos- 
sible between the sign?, ppp dindfff. 

Complexity by the countless subtly interwoven 
quantities of harmony worked upon the web of 
melody. 

Elation and Depression by the tones and their 
intervals, from the lowest to the highest pitch. 

in emotion. 

Velocity by successive impulses of feeling such 
as are experienced in situations which excite a series 
of emotions, following each other in various degrees 
of velocity. 

Intensity by the various degrees in which feel- 
ing sways us, ranging from the simplest emotion, 
which may be all but neutral, to the condition of 
highest excitability. 



142 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 

Complexity by a concatenation of emotions, 
which succeed each other at a rate of velocity so 
great that even the " lightning of the mind " may 
scarcely distinguish where one state of feeling ceases 
and the next begins ; the appreciable result of which 
is the complete, complex sensation, or '^complexity." 

Elation and Depression by the various states of 
feeling, ranging from the lowest despondency to the 
top-most heights of exultation. 

Thus are suggested corresponding planes be- 
tween music and emotion, and these will assist us in 
tracing out the processes by which one acts upon 
the other. 

As the primary, and consequently fundamental 
constituent of music, we consider melody first in or- 
der, and, secondly, its grand accessory and beauti- 
fier, harmony; for it is melody which serves in the 
art as the articulate voice medium of expression, as 
relates to emotion, becoming, under the inspiration 
of the composer, the embodiment, so to speak, of 
particular states of mind and feeling. By melody is 
of course understood the rhythmic progression of 
notes, as distinguished from che grouping of notes or 
harmony. 

It may be safely premised that most of us who 
have reached the years of maturity have experienced 
all of what may be termed the fundamental human 
emotions, varying, of course, in intensity and conti- 
nuity, with the susceptibility of the nature acted 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 143 

upon, and modified by attendant circumstances. Of 
these emotions, rising from time to time, those with' 
which it is the peculiar province of music to deal 
do not always find commensurate expression, and 
this is particularly true of those tender sentiments 
with which music so continually employs itself, 
which emotions are afforded but partial expression, 
or lie voiceless within, ever ready to welcome op- 
portunity for expression. As it is true that the ma- 
jor portion of mankind have at least touched upon 
the fundamental emotions common to humanity, so, 
conversely, is it true that all human emotion has 
been given expression to through the respective me- 
dia of art by the master- workers therewith; and this 
may be said of music alone within the limitations 
of the art. Thus it follows that all who can place 
themselves in sympathy with music (and who can- 
not?) may find therein expression for the higher 
emotions of the soul, inarticulate though it be as 
compared with the art of speech, while at the same 
time it is doubtless true that music serves as a 
medium of expression for deep-lying refinements of 
feeling, too subtle for the symbols of speech. 

It is not unusual to meet in the course of our read- 
ing, with a thought which we at once recognize as 
one which we have ourselves before known — in many 
instances, perhaps, in an equally positive form as 
that in which we find it preserved. It may be, how- 
ever, that we have not given it expression, or if at 



144 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 

all, we have not uttered it with any special definite- 
ness. Some of the thoughts, however, which may 
thus be recognized have presented themselves so 
evanescently to our consciousness that we can hard- 
ly claim them as our own ; their outline only having 
passed before our mental vision without leaving any 
distinct impression, just as the prepared plate in the 
camera may be said to receive an imperfect outline 
only of an object if submitted to it but for an in- 
stant. Yet, again, we can conceive that there are 
still other thoughts in embryo which have only just 
reached the border line of consciousness, as yet on 
the nether side, but the moment these come in con- 
tact with their related expression they become 
quickened into action, as the electric spark springs 
forth the moment the complete conductor touches 
its source ; up to that instant remaining motionless 
though living. In like manner we conceive it to 
be the case with feeling. From the most neutral to 
those most actively alive, are there emotions wait- 
ing upon expression ; their permanent, unfathoma- 
ble nature, making repeated expression ever welcome 
to them, — which, indeed, may be said, with more or 
less truth, of all emotion. Others have been but par- 
tially expressed, while again there are those (if we 
may be allowed to anticipate their existence) which 
like the thought in embryo, have not as yet taken 
their definite form, but which, when brought in con- 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 145 

tact with their adequate conductor, become vivified 
and produce their corresponding sensation. 

May it not be that those nameless emotions which 
are experienced when we come under the influence of 
certain passages in the music of such magicians in 
the art as Beethoven, which we are unable satisfac- 
torily to fix or define to our understanding, belong 
to the class last named, which, undefined though 
they be, afford us a pleasure of a very positive, al- 
beit mysterious character. If the doctrine of metem- 
psychosis were admissible, these stranger emotions 
might be accounted for by supposing them to per- 
tain to some prior condition of existence; emotions 
which such music as that named, alone, is capable 
of awakening or giving utterance to in this present 
existence. 

Admitting the theory that the master-workers in 
the art under consideration have comprehended all 
human feeling, and created therefor adequate chan- 
nels of expression, it follows that when we place our 
selves under the influence of the art, in the hands of 
the interpreter, the latent or active feeling responds 
thereto, affording that pleasurable sensation which 
the expression of emotion always yields. 

Let us apply our premises. In listening to a musi- 
cal composition, we recognize it as dealing with some 
given sentiment. Not, perhaps, apprehending the 
exact phase of the sentiment treated, but the funda- 
mental emotion to which it is related, and therefore 



146 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 

one which, accepting the hypothesis submitted, each 
auditor has already experienced in some degree, — 
hence recognizes. Thus identified, our emotional 
nature responds thereto in various degrees in 
each individual as such of their several experiences 
as harmonize with the given sentiment vary — for as 
the composer colors the emotion interpreted with 
his own individuality, so does each auditor receive 
such interpretation in its application to his own par- 
ticular experience ; and more or less intense as the 
emotional nature prevails in the case of each listen- 
er respectivly. 

Furthermore, the effect will, of course, be in pro- 
portion as the composer possesses a nature capa- 
ble of feeling and power to adequately interpret 
through his art the given emotion. 

Each auditor thus recognizing (by the intuition of 
feeling rather than by any intellectual apprehension) 
in the given theme the expression of a more or less 
familiar emotion, which, in the particular case, may 
never have found adequate, or but partial utter- 
ance, the emotional being which, so to speak, has been 
bearing the burden of the unuttered feeling, gladly 
welcomes and rests itself upon that expression, 
making it its own, and thus is experienced that 
sense of satisfaction the ultimate of which we know 
as pleasure. 

Not only is it true, as has been said, that all man- 
kind have experienced, in various degrees, the fun- 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 147 

damental feelings of our human nature, but it is 
also the fact that all have known something of the 
more exalted emotions, — such, for example, as those 
of the sublime, the heroic, and the like ; and it is 
more particularly true of these that in this mater- 
ialistic age they but seldom find exercise except 
that which may be termed the sympathetic expres- 
sion afforded when we come under the influence 
of art. 

Thus, such music as represents martial cadences, 
the pageantry of arms, or as relates to the more re- 
ligio-sublime, those grand choral-form progressions 
and magnificent passages, as in Oratorio, which we in- 
tuitively recognize as the utterance of emotion per- 
taining to the most exalted planes of feeling, — (to 
which the highest natures alone may attain), may be 
said to awaken that profound sentiment which 
springs worshipfully from the apprehension of the 
divine conceptions presented in these grander crea. 
tions of the art, and afford an expression to the sub- 
limer emotions which elsewise for the most part 
they know not ; and the man or woman with but lit- 
tle of the religious or heroic in their nature, may by 
this agency be moved to a depth which no other in- 
fluence might ever reach. Under the influence of 
this class of music, which excites the heroic senti- 
ment, we feel that pleasure which a quickening of the 
nobler impulses of the soul affords, while in the lat- 
ter case, where the religious sentiment is brought 



148 MUSIC AND IIS PROCESSES. 

into action, the soul is subdued into a state of devo- 
tion and repose, or exalted by the sentiment of rev- 
erence and adoration. 

Moreover, it is to be remembered, that this plea- 
sure is largely aided by the " association process," 
which contributes in an important degree to the 
pleasure experienced (as it does indeed in most pro- 
cesses of mind), industriously gathering about such 
pleasurable feeling, as a given theme or passage may 
awaken, all experiences in consonance therewith, 
which add their coloring to the dominant emotion. 

Herein, then, seems to lie the primary source of 
the pleasure afforded by music: that it is an articu- 
late voice, whereby we may find more or less ade- 
quate expression for the deepest emotions which 
inhabit the unfathomable recesses of the soul. Over 
and beyond the delectation which is thus derived 
from what may be termed the soul of music, there 
is a supplementary pleasure afforded by the external 
forms of melody. This clearly arises from the per- 
ception, in its numerous rhythmic designs and 
varying cadences, of the beauty of symmetry, pro- 
portion and the like thereby outlined before the 
mind, while at the same time, by the process of as- 
similation, may be suggested some of the multitu- 
dinous rhythms in the world of nature, or some 
other of its more sublime manifestations. And here 
again is the " association process " found occupying 
itself, calling up before the mind the scenes where 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. I49 

such manifestations are known, thus giving rise to 
other simple emotions, each contributing its pleas- 
urable sensation; the aggregate of all being the 
" complex " or complete pleasure. 

Moreover, the external forms of melody dehghtus 
by their supplementary elaboration and embellish- 
ment, affording a pleasure very similar to, if indeed 
not identical with that experienced in contemplat- 
ing the graceful or fantastic designs of line and 
curve wrought into delicate arabesques and infinite 
forms of beauty in a sister art. 

Let us accept melody, then, as the prime source 
of that pleasure which music affords; not, of course, 
wishing to be understood that melody per se affords 
this pleasure, but that, as presented in musical com- 
positions, it is the primary factor which produces 
the pleasurable emotion experienced. First, as be- 
ing the embodied expression of human feeling, that 
is the soul of it; and, secondly, by its external 
beauty of form and embellishment, all interwoven 
by harmony into the perfect whole. 

A brief word may be added as to harmony, which 
is understood to be the combination of two or more 
notes bearing relative consistent proportions to the 
fundamental tone. The meed of pleasure which 
harmony contributes to the aggregate derived from 
music, plainly results from the character and color 
which it imparts to, and incidentally from the rich 



I50 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 

vestments, so to speak, woven from its " concord of 
sweet sounds," in which it robes its subject. 

As presented to the imagination, its innumerable 
combinations of beauty delight us now by their 
embroider-like richness; following which the imagi- 
nation is conducted amid ingeniously developed pro- 
gressions, from one enchanting surprise to another; 
now dazzling by their regal splendor, scintillating 
with rich decoration as might the brilliant capari- 
sons of a royal pageant glistening in the sunlight — 
awakening the more pleasurable phases of wonder 
and admiration, or again by their closely inter- 
woven, yet, in point of continuance, broadly ex- 
tended beauty, through which run the golden threads 
of melody, suggesting to the mind the velvety rich- 
ness of superb tapestries, into which are woven 
uniquely delicate or boldly figured designs, and un- 
numbered other mental pictures of beauty, giving 
rise to other various and amplified phases of the 
emotions named, and so forth. All these harmonic 
variations, infinite in number, being consistently 
proportioned and combined, now in powerful con- 
trasts, or again in the most delicate interfusions of 
sound, their effect upon the sensibilities may be said 
to be related to that experienced in contemplating 
perfect combinations, gradations and interblending 
of colors, especially if in action as in a fine sun- 
set, as when viewed across an expanse of water, 
upon which the rich masses of color are cradled 



MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 15 1 

into innumerable combinations of beauty. In this 
connection is recalled the thought suggested by the 
author already quoted, that the time may come 
when ingenuity will have devised instruments 
whereby color may be manipulated and expressed 
in rhythmic action and harmonic combinations, /. e., 
symphonies in color, which shall impart the same 
pleasure through the sense of sight that we now de- 
rive from symphonies in sound. 

We have sought thus briefly to outline the view 
that the pleasure derived from music is chiefly pro- 
duced by its fundamental constituent, melody: 

ist. As furnishing an adequate medium of ex- 
pression to the most noble, most tender and conse- 
quently most demandful of human emotions; the 
importance of which service makes apparent the 
divineness of its mission. 

2nd. By the countless designs of beauty presented 
to the mind in its various and ever varying forms. 

3rd. By the rich ornamentation and embellish- 
ments it displays. 

4th. By calling into action the " association pro- 
cess " which calls up before the mind that which 
diverts and delights, and 

Finally, that harmony, the grand auxiliary and 
beautifier of melody, contributes in a preeminent 
degree to heighten, and to create, the sum total of 
pleasure afforded, in the manner briefly indicated. 



